\ 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


; 


; 


HEART'S    CONTENT, 

AND   THEY  WHO   LIVED   THERE. 


CLARA    DOTY    BATES. 

AUTHOR   OP  "CLASSICS    OF    BABYLAND,"     "  CHILD    LOM,        BTC. 


BOSTON: 
D.  LOTHROP    AND    COMPANY, 

FRANKLIN   STREET,   CORNER  OF  HAWLEY. 


COPYRIGHT    BY 

LOTH  ROP     &     CO. 
1880. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 
THE  FIRST  FIVE  ASTONISHED      ....       7 

CHAPTER  II. 

"HERE  IS  SIX" l8 

CHAPTER  III. 
STORY  TELLING 34 

CHAPTER  IV. 
MARS'S  ADVENTURE 47 

CHAPTER  V. 
A  DAY  OF  DISTRESSES 66 

CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  NAUGHTY  TRICK 81 

CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  BEGINNING  OF  A  PROFESSION       .       .       .    100 
y 


622684 


Contents. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
THE  GOD  OF  WAR  AT  A  DISADVANTAGE  .       .    in 

CHAPTER  TX. 
THE  EXPERIMENT 129 

CHAPTER  X. 
DON'S  LUCK 144 

CHAPTER  XI. 
ANOTHER  PHASE 158 

CHAPTER  XII. 
MARS'S  WAY  OF  DOING  BUSINESS.      .       .       .175 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
THE  OLD  BENT  TREE 188 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
A  BIT  OF  DISCIPLINE 204 

CHAPTER  XV. 
A  WRONG  STORY 220 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
THE  FUNNY  MASK 232 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
THE  CHRISTMAS  STOCKING 241 


HEART'S    CONTENT. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  FIEST  FIVE  ASTONISHED. 
"  They  grew  together,  side  by  side." 

I  DON'T   know  what    I   shall  do   with  this 
baby,"  said  Mr.  Lawrence,  "  I  have  so  many 
little  ones,  already." 

Trudge  was  on  his  knee,  with  her  small  hands 
locked  across  her  little  fat  lap,  and  a  placid, 
far-away  look  in  her  eyes. 

Don  sat  at  the  window,  with  a  heavy  scowl 

upon  his  forehead  —  not  of  discontent,  but  of 

deep  reflection ;  Nanny  hung  upon  the  back  of 

her  father's  chair ;  and  Jane,  in  her  low  seat, 

7 


8  Heart's  Content. 

was  rocking  her  cat  to  sleep ;  while  Mars 
worked  assiduously  at  a  willow  whistle  with  his 
jack-knife — first  beating  the  bark  with  the 
handle,  and  then  trying,  to  blow  a  note  upon 
it,  until,  with  the  combined  efforts,  the  veins 
stood  out  in  purple  cords  upon  his  forehead. 

It  was  a  June  Saturday.  The  windows  were 
open,  and  the  long  hedge  of  Scotch  roses  was 
pink  with  bloom.  Bees  hummed  with  a  drowsy 
sound,  and  sweet  smells  filled  the  air. 

This  was  the  birthday  of  a  little  sister ;  and 
the  announcement  had  just  been  made  to  the 
children  after  breakfast.  It  had  been  welcomed 
with  varied  degrees  of  curiosity,  surprise  and 
delight ;  and  each  one  had  had  the  space  of 
half  an  hour  in  which  to  come  to  a  conclusion 
as  to  whether  the  news  was  pleasant  or  other- 
wise. 

Then  Mr.  Lawrence  said,  as  if  to  test  the 
general  spirit : 

"  I  don't  know  what  I  shall  do  with  this 
baby,  I  have  so  many  little  ones,  already." 

"  Keep  it ! "  said  Trudge,  with  the  gravest 
nonchalance. 

Don's  frown  relaxed,  and  the  rest  laughed  at 


The  First  Five  Astonished.  9 

Trudge's  ready  settlement  of  the  question.  Of 
course  she  was  hugged  and  kissed  for  the  cool- 
ness with  which  she  proved  a  warm  heart ;  and 
then  a  general  discussion  took  place. 

And  while  they  chatter  in  lively  eagerness 
over  the  astonishing  announcement  that  has 
been  made,  we  will  give  this,  little  household 
group  a  rather  more  formal  introduction. 

Three  sisters  and  two  brothers  filled  the 
house,  full  —  or  at  least  it  had  seemed  there  was 
no  longer  any  room  for  more.  Each  nook  and 
corner  had  its  constant  use,  and  Silence  never 
entered  there  except  hand  in  hand  with  Sleep. 

It  was  not  a  mansion,  but  a  cottage  ;  nestled 
down  near  a  thriving  frontier  city,  whose  envi- 
rons were  yet  new,  having  still  not  a  few  of 
the  features  of  the  primitive  wilderness,  such 
as  lately-cleared  fields,  settlers'  houses  built  of 
hewn  logs,  heavy  stretches  of  wood,  and  ex- 
tended spaces  by  the  roadsides  as  yet  without 
those  barriers  to  the  picturesque — fences.  The 
locality  was  what  was  then  the  best. 

The  .house  stood  within  near  enough  reach 
of  the  busy  town  for  all  purposes  of  business 
or  pleasure,  and  yet  had  room  enough  in  its 


10  Heart's  Content. 

grounds  for  a  small  orchard,  a  vegetable  garden, 
a  barn  and  stables. 

In  other  words,  it  was  a  miniature  farm,  at 
the  very  door  of  a  city. 

You  could  not  pass  the  house  without  turning 
to  note  its  simple  beauty.  Its  white  walls 
were  covered  with  vines,  which  draped  it  in 
summer  with  leaves,  and  in  winter  outlined 
this  drapery  with  a  dark  net-work  of  stems. 

Roses  in,  their  season  were  there  in  profusion, 
and  carefulty-tended  flower-beds,  and  bits  of 
shrubbery ;  and  the  whole  aspect  of  the  house 
had  the  look  of  loving  care  upon  it. 

It  was  not  a  place  to  live  in,  merely  —  it 
was  a  home. 

Inside,  as  might  be  expected,  it  was  cosy  with 
books  and  many  pictures  —  made  beautiful  not 
with  modern  decorative  art,  but  with  the  art 
of  love. 

Its  windows  had  spotless  curtains  and  shining 
panes.  Each  room,  where  a  glimpse  could  be 
caught  through  an  open  door,  seemed  to  have 
a  special  look  of  comfort  in  its  easy-chair,  or 
its  soft  rug,  or  its  book-rack,  or  its  great  roomy 
sofa.  And  the  kitchen  had  a  white  floor,  and 


The  First  Five  Astonished.  11 

clean-scoured  chairs,  and  an  old-fashioned 
dresser  on  carved  bear's  claws,  and  with  brass 
handles  to  its  drawers. 

This  place  was  called  Heart's  Content. 

The  children  in  this  cottage  were  so  nearly 
'of  an  age  and  size  that  they  were  like  the  steps 
in  a  stair  —  each  one  just  about  such  a  height 
taller  than  the  next  younger  —  and  they  were 
as  varied  in  looks  and  dispositions  as  their 
number  would  allow. 

Donald,  the  eldest,  would  have  been  an  ex- 
uberant, headstrong,  wayward  boy,  perhaps, 
had  not  responsibility  fallen  early  upon  him  in 
the  shape  of  so  many  younger  than  himself  — 
Nanny  being  the  largest  ingredient  in  that 
responsibility. 

As  it  was,  his  unusual  animal  life  and  strength 
were  diverted  mainly  to  the  care  and  protection 
of  the  girls,  and,  to  the  defense  and  discipline 
of  a  smaller  brother  —  none  the  less  doughty 
than  himself,  however.  Tow-headed,  dark-eyed, 
and  as  straight  as  an  Indian,  he  always  headed 
the  flock  in  any  experiment;  and  in  case  one 
strayed  from  the  accustomed  habit  of  play,  it 
was  his  province  to  restore  the  wanderer  to  the 


12  Heart's  Content. 

safety  of  regulated  custom.  In  that  way  what 
might  have  been  a  troublesome  amount  of  vital- 
ity and  individuality,  was  applied  and  absorbed 
to  the  benefit  of  the  whole. 

He  was  twelve  years  old ;  in  manner  imperi- 
ous, bluff,  gruff,  and  accustomed  to  be  "  minded," 
or  to  know  the  reason  wiry,  at  once.  In  fact, 
he  was  a  tyrant;  but,  quite  an  unusual  thing 
in  a  tyrant,  it  was  generally  in  the  interests  of 
good-sense  and  right.  As  an  excuse  for  some 
of  his  peculiarities  it  must  be  said,  that  being 
care-taker  in  general,  he  naturally  felt  entitled 
to  a  good  deal  of  authority.  And  Don's  growl 
was  a  growl  merely  —  never  a  bite. 

Why  Nanny,  the  next  in  order,  should  be 
the  black  sheep  in  that  flock,  it  would  be  hard 
to  tell.  But  so  it  was.  One  glance  at  her 
round  rosy  face,  with  its  gray  eyes  and  laughing 
mouth,  would  show  that  it  was  not  ill-nature, 
at  least,  that  made  her  so.  Rather,  you  would 
conclude,  it  was  her  mischief  that  was  forever 
getting  her  into  trouble. 

And  mischief  it  undoubtedly  was  —  pure, 
bubbling,  inexhaustible  mischief. 

She  could  be  a  grave  girl  on  occasion,  very 


The  First  Five  Astonished.  13 

decorous,  and  reasonably  attentive  to  her  du- 
ties ;  but,  alas,  it  was  her  general  tendency  to 
romp  that  seemed  to  undo  and  to  offset  all  her 
otherwise  praiseworthy  conduct.  She  was  two 
years  younger  than  Don,  but  fully  as  tall  as 
he,  robust,  full  of  strength,  and  innocent  of 
reflection. 

There  was  an  entire  contrast  between  her 
and  the  next  one  —  little  Jane  —  who  was  puny 
and  slim,  with  a  sharp  pain  in  her  side  whenever 
she  ran  or  played.  She  hadn't  a  grain  of 
roguery  in  her,  and  was  the  conscience  of  the 
family.  She  was  timid  and  sensitive,  and  her 
life-long  suffering  was  over  Nanny's  gay  dis- 
graces, which  that  young  lady  bore  with  no 
mark  of  contrition,  except  possibly  sometimes 
the  reddened  appearance  of  her  little  pug  nose, 
after  an  April  shower  of  penitent  tears. 

Frederick  Marston  Lawrence  —  child  the 
fourth  —  otherwise  Teddy  or  Mars  —  was  odder 
than  any  other.  The  head  on  his  little  square 
shoulders  was  a  very  sensible  and  practical  one, 
though  you  might  not  have  guessed  it,  had 
you  chanced  to  see  him  for  the  first  time  in 
one  of  his  "  gusts."  It  was  covered  with  thick 


14  Heart's  Content. 

hair,  which  in  his  babyhood  was  called  "•  golden," 
but  which  was  undeniably  red.  It  bristled  up 
straight,  especially  one  little  lock  on  the  crown, 
whenever  he  flew  into  one  of  his  "  tempers." 

But  there  was  a  good  deal  of  ingenuity 
underneath  that  funny  thatch,  and  of  good- 
sense,  and  of  sweetness,  too.  He  was  fair  and 
open,  and  staunch  as  a  little  commodore  in  all 
his  relations  to  his  playmates,  and  quite  inclined 
to  help  himself,  as  far  as  his  elders  were  con- 
cerned. He  was  stubbed,  and  happy,  and  noisy. 
He  banged  doors,  and  whooped  out  loud  in  the 
house ;  and  more  than  once  had  tried  to  beat 
his  elder  brother,  if  his  very  tender  toes  were 
trodden  upon  ever  so  little  —  or,  in  other  words, 
if  there  was  any  suspicion  that  he  was  being 
teazed  or  dictated  to. 

Little  Elizabeth,  or  Trudge,  as  she  was  called, 
was  such  a  round  little  creature  that  she  might 
have  rolled  like  a  ball,  instead  of  walking.  Her 
color  was  the  lightest  flaxen,  though  her  eyes 
were  large,  and  soft,  and  brown.  She  was  near- 
sighted, sober-mannered,  yet  full  of  demure 
frolics,  and  ready  to  follow  to  the  uttermost 
wherever  sport  might  lead. 


The  First  Five  Astonished.  15 

She  was  docile  as  a  fawn,  and  could  be  de- 
pended upon  never  to  disobey;  but  how  any- 
one so  thoroughly  obedient  and  tractable  could 
manage  to  do  so  many  things  which  needed 
correction,  was  the  constant  wonder  of  all. 
The  truth  is,  she  had  a  most  busy  little  brain, 
and  following  as  she  did  in  the  active  wake  of 
such  a  harum-scarum  as  Nanny,  and  such  a 
little  god  of  war  as  Mars,  it  is  not  surprising 
that  she  sometimes  came  to  grief. 

Now,  besides  the  father  and  mother,  there 
was  an  aunt  in  the  family — Aunt  Ann.  Every- 
body, nearly,  -has  an  Aunt  Ann,  but  never  one, 
it  is  believed,  was  so  good,  and,  at  the  same 
time  so  eccentric,  as  this  one.  She  was  a  Betsey- 
Trotwood  kind  of  woman,  angular,  abrupt, 
gentle,  prudish,  pious,  and  quaint,  believing  it 
her  duty  to  frown  upon  the  slightest  mirth. 
So  morbid  was  she  upon  that  subject,  that  even 
the  glee  of  these  healthy  children,  had  to  be 
hushed  and  admonished  like  a  wickedness. 

Her  whole  life  was  absorbed  in  these  nephews 
and  nieces,  and  she  knew  all  their  little  ins  and 
outs  of  character,  and  was  jealous  lest  they,  in 
being  spared,  should  be  spoiled,  yet  with  not 


16  Heart's  Content. 

hardness  of  heart  enough  to  hurt  one  of  then? 
by  so  much  as  the  blow  from  a  straw.  When 
she  felt  convinced  that  they  ought  to  be  pun 
ished  —  and  as  a  kind  of  second  mother  it  often 
lay  with  her  to  do  it,  or  not,  as  her  judgment 
saw  fit  —  she  would  flee  to  her  chamber  as  it 
pursued.  To  the  comfort  of  their  minds  and 
bodies,  they  never  were  punished,  except  by 
grieved  rebuke  or  tender  censure. 

Still  Aunt  Ann,  holding  rather  ultra  views 
on  the  subject,  often  felt  it  her  duty  to  chastise, 
to  use  the  Scriptural  rod  —  not  in  anger,  but 
in  sorrow  —  yet  had  any  one  dared  to  strike  a 
blow  on  one  of  those  cherished  little  miscreants, 
she  would  have  defended  them  as  a  tigress  does 
her  young. 

"  Be  good,"  was  her  constant  charge.  And 
because  it  was  so  often  given  it  lost  much  of  its 
effect.  If  she  had  said  "be  bad,"  now  and 
then,  the  very  novelty  of  it  might  possibly  have4 
held  their  attention  long  enough  to  secur< 
thought,  or  at  least  silence.  But  "be  good,' 
grew  to  be  almost  like  "  seek  him  !  "  to  dog 
Zeus — a  signal  for  fresh  efforts.  They  laughed 


The  First  Five  Astonished.  17 

at  it,  as  a  sort  of  by-word,  and  forgot  it  in  the 
next  breath. 

Only  one  more  item  is  to  be  added  to  this 
introduction,  and  that  is  the  fact  that  in  those 
days,  and  in  that  semi-country  life,  living  was 
not  always  easy  or  luxurious. 

Children  were  taught  to  be  helpful,  and  to 
value  such  advantages  as  were  afforded  them, 
though  they  might  not  be  very  ample. 

BOJTS  did  chores  — -  odious  and  tiresome,  they 
often  were  —  and  girls  were  trained  to  house- 
hold duties,  and  were  expected  to  knit  and  to 
sew.  Many  a  little  girl's  ambition,  before  she 
was  eight  years  old,  was  to  make  a  quilt,  or  to 
shape  a  stocking,  including  the  "  heel." 

And  where  there  were  so  many  to  do  for,  as 
at  Heart's  Content,  it  was  indeed  needful  that 
each  one  should  add  a  mite  to  the  general 
industry. 

The  indulgent  mother  was  inclined  to  give 
large  measure  of  holiday,  while  Aunt  Ann  kept 
up  her  strict  counter-tactics  of  work;  and  on 
the  whole,  Heart's  Content  was  like  a  little 
hive  of  bees  —  busy  always  at  light  tasks  or  • 
at  play  —  mostly  the  latter. 


CHAPTER  II. 

"  HEBE  IS   SIX." 
"  With  Love's  invisible  sceptre  laden." 

NO  wonder  the  discussion  was  an  ani- 
mated one,  for  a  new  sister  is  not  an 
every-day  affair.  It  was  a  loving  household, 
and  to  this  spirit,  and  for  the  sake  of  a 
full  understanding  between  them,  Mr.  Lawrence 
appealed. 

"  You  see,"  he  said,  "  this  is  the  first  day  of 
summer,  and  there  was  never  a  lovelier  morning 
for  a  birthda}*.  The  sun  shines  as  if  he  meant 
everything  to  be  pleasant ;  the  birds  are  glad 
and  we  ought  to  be  —  very.  A  little  sister  will 
be  something  for  you  boys  to  take  care  of, 
and  pet,  and  much  nicer  than  dolls  for  the 
18 


«  Here  is  Six."  19 

girls  —  and  even  nicer,"  he  added,  with  a  smile, 
"than  Jane's  cat." 

Jane  gave  the  great  lazy  kitten  a  quiet 
squeeze,  as  if  to  assure  him  that  no  rival  could 
steal  into  his  place  in  her  heart;  but  she 
smiled  back  at  her  father  at  the  same  time,  for 
the  news  of  a  new  sister  had  quite  overwhelmed 
her  with  joy. 

"  What  shall  her  name  be  ?  "  queried  Nanny. 

"Name  her  June,"  replied  sturdy  Mars, 
without  any  intermission  at  his  whistle. 

*'  That's  no  name  for  a  girl ! "  said  Don,  with 
some  contempt,  "that's  the  name  of  a  month." 

"But  I  say  it  is  a  name  for  a  girl,"  burst 
out  Marsie  in  a  heat,  that  his  suggestion  should 
be  slighted  —  "you  said  it  is  a  lovely  time, 
and  she's  a  lovely  baby,  and  her  name  shall  be 
June  ! " 

Then  Mr.  Lawrence,  wishing  to  pacify,  in- 
terrupted, "  We'll  counsel  with  mamma  about 
a  name." 

But  Mars  was  not  easily  quieted,  when  his 
opinions  were  disputed,  and  went  on  to  argue 
his  case  with  considerable  stress.  May  was  a 
name  for  a  girl,  and  why  not  June?  Don  was 


20  Heart's  Content. 

forever  turning  up  his  nose  at  things !  and  down 
went  whistle  and  jack-knife,  and  away  he  rushed 
towards  his  mother's  room  to  have  the  matter 
settled  at  once. 

Of  course  he  had  to  be  called  back  and  molli- 
fied and  reasoned  with ;  and  Jane  with  a  meek 
word,  finally  restored  him  to  good  nature.  She 
whispered : 

"Marsie.it  is  a  sweet  name  —  but  —  isn't  it 
pretty  much  like  Jane?" 

"  That's  the  reason  I  like  it,"  replied  Mars, 
stoutly,  for  he  was  champion-in-chief  and  dear- 
est friend  to  this  little  pale  sister. 

A  very  uneasy  household  it  was  until  the 
new  arrival  could  be  introduced.  Such  a  fair 
pure  lily  as  she  was,  with  great  dark  eyes  full 
of  wisdom  from  the  hour  they  first  opened  to 
the  light  of  that  summer  day. 

Every  heart  was  won.  All  were  agreed  that 
never  had  there  been  anything  so  sweet,. so  dear, 
so  cunning.  To  have  her  look  at  them,  as  she 
did  for  an  instant  with  curious  intelligence,  was 
wonderful  delight ;  and  her  tiny  hands  and  feet 
were  the  joyous  surprise  of  all.  Trudge  hugged 


"Here  is  Six"  21 

herself  with  serene  satisfaction,  as  if  she  held 
the  baby  in  her  own  chubby  arms,  and  said: 

"She's  mine!  she's  mine!"  and  Mars  began 
at  once  to  make  playthings  for  her  —  spool-carts, 
trains  of  cars,  trumpets  and  tops. 

Don,  who  was  just  beginning  Latin,  called 
her  "  pulchra,"  which  learned  name  had  a  novel 
effect  upon  Nanny,  who  conceded  for  the  first 
time  that  Don  might  be  her  superior,  and  fol- 
lowed him  about  insisting  that  he  should  talk 
Latin  to  her. 

Mars  chattered  constantly  of  "  June,"  deter- 
mined in  his  little  obstinate  mind  that  his  name 
should  be  adopted;  but  as  no  one  would  quar- 
rel with  him,  he  gradually  let  the  subject  drop. 

This,  I  have  said,  was  on  Saturday,  and  of 
course  there  was  no  school.  And  so  with  the 
natural  restlessness  of  these  bees,  together  with 
their  late  surprise  and  curiosity,  Aunt  Ann  grew 
nearly  distracted  before  the  morning  was  half 
gone. 

There  were  still  four  weeks  of  school  before 
the  summer  vacation,  but  if  this  was  a  foretaste 
of  that  dreaded  time,  what  Bedlam  threatened 
them. 


22  Heart's  Content. 

The  three  little  girls  were  finally  sent  to  a 
neighbor's  for  the  day ;  and  Don  took  a  fine  gal- 
lop on  his  pony  with  some  of  his  friends,  leav- 
ing only  Marsie,  who  whittled  industriously  all 
day  over  his  projected  gifts  to  the  baby.  When 
all  were  gathered  together  again  at  nightfall, 
each  one  was  tired  enough  to  go  early  to  bed. 
But  they  did  not  get  to  rest  without  some  final 
disputes. 

Trudge  prayed  so  long  for  her  new  sister,  that 
Mars  got  out  of  all  patience,  before  she  hopped 
off  in  her  little  white  night-dress,  like  a  large- 
sized  toad,  saying,    "  she's  mine  !  she's  mine  !  " 
Then  Nanny  did  not  say  her — 

"Now  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep." 

with  as  much  decorum  as  she  ought,  for  which 
Jane  took  her  to  task ;  and,  between  them  all, 
Marsie  got  to  laughing,  which  made  Don  roar 
out  from  his  room  that  he'd  soon  settle  them 
if  they  didn't  keep  still. 

And  Jane  plotted  in  under-current  through 
it  all,  and  until  she  went  to  sleep,  how  she 
would  knit  the  tiniest  little  stockings  that  ever 
were  seen  for  those  very  tiny  feet. 


"Here  is    Six"  23 

Next  morning  it  was  less  of  a  wonder  that 
there  was  a  baby  in  the  house,  and  it  cried  just 
long  enough  to  disgust  Mars. 

"  I  can't  see  what  she  wants  to  cry  for,  when 
nobody  has  hurt  her,"  he  said.  "If  she  acts 
that  way,  I  don't  care  whether  her  name  is  June, 
or  not." 

Jane  lingered  long  about  the  cradle,  her  poor 
cat  neglected  for  the  first  time,  and  she  timidly 
begged  to  "  hold  "  June  —  calling  her  so  with  a 
view  to  having  Mars's  name  made  the  real  one  if 
possible. 

It  did  not  seem  in  the  least  like  Sunday.  The 
household  was  not  in  its  usually  serene  state,  for 
there  was  more  to  do,  and  less  restraint.  The 
new  element  in  their  lives  disturbed  the  tranquil 
regularity  for  a  little,  and  it  was  felt  in  every 
part  of  the  machinery. 

Nobody  went  to  morning  service,  but  Aunt 
Ann  got  the  children  ready  for  Sunday-school. 
They  looked  like  a  little  flock  of  pigeons  in  their 
fresh  frocks  and  jackets  and  hats,  as  they  moved 
away  in  a  decorous  quiet  fashion,  quite  unlike 
their  week-day  exuberance.  When  they  got 


24  Heart's  Content. 

home  again  their  commonplace  clothes  were  put 
on  so  that  the  day  might  not  be  one  of  discom- 
fort in  any  sense,  as  would  have  been  the  case 
if  they  had  been  obliged  all  the  time  to  be  mind- 
ful of  what  they  wore. 

"  Let  Sunday  be  a  pleasant  day  to  them,"  was 
their  mother's  theory,  "  and  let  their  restraints 
be  of  the  spirit,  and  the  body  will  need  no  other 
restrictions." 

It  had  been  a  long  day  to  them  all.  The  un- 
usual cares  upon  the  elder  members  of  the  fam- 
ily had  made  the  children  more  restless  and  less 
self-reliant  than  was  their  wont.  One  after 
another,  though,  they  at  last  became  interested 
in  their  new  Sunday -school  books,  and  the  play- 
room up  stairs  was  a  scene  of  the  most  indus- 
trious reading. 

"  Oh,  Janey,  has  your  book  got  a  moral  ?  " 
finally  burst  out  Mars,  breaking  in  upon  the 
quiet.  "  Mine  has  a  beautiful  one." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Janey,  "  what  is  a 
moral  ?  " 

"  Why,  a  moral's  this,"  said  Mars.  "  A  lot  of 
boys  do  wrong,  and  one  of  them  gets  drownded.' 


"Here  is  Six.1'  25 

"  That  isn't  a  moral,"  interrupted  Nanny, 
authoritatively,  looking  up  from  her  absorbing 
page. 

"  It  is  a  moral,  too,  I  tell  you,"  persisted  Mars. 
"  I'll  ask  Aunt  Ann  if  it  isn't,"  he  added,  as  she 
just  then  entered  the  room  in  search  of  her  own 
book. 

Dreading  an  irruption  of  this  much-desired 
peace,  Aunt  Ann  sat  down  at  once  and  became 
umpire.  She  always  doubted  her  own  wisdom 
in  replying  to  these  merciless  questioners,  and 
her  lifted  eye-brows  and  tired  face  indicated  now 
that  patience  was  the  only  strength  that  re- 
mained to  her. 

"  Well,  what  is  it,  children?  "  she  said. 

The  question  in  dispute  was  made  known. 

"  By  a  moral  to  a  story,"  Aunt  Ann  said, 
mildly,  "  I  understand  that  part  of  it  which 
shows  that  no  good  ever  comes  out  of  wrong- 
doing. Isn't  that  what  you  understand,  Nanny  ?  " 

"No,  it  isn't,  Aunt  Ann,"  said  Nanny.  "A 
moral  is  always  the  stupid  part  that  spoils 
everything.  Now  my  book  hasn't  any  moral  — 
it's  all  story.  You  never  saw  anything  so  inter- 
esting. I  wish  Mars  would  keep  still  with  his 


26  Heart's  Content. 

morals.  I  can't  wait  to  see  how  Christian  gets 
out  of  his  trouble." 

Her  book  was  Pilgrim's  Progress. 

"  Why,  dear,"  said  Aunt  Ann,  smiling  at 
Nanny's  impetuosity,  and  glancing  over  at  the 
book  in  her  lap,  "  do  you  know  that  your  story 
book  is  fuller  of  Christian  moral  and  real  re- 
ligious lessons  than  almost  any  other  ?  Pilgrim's 
Progress  conveys  a  precept  in  every  page." 

"  But  I  thought  a  moral  was  where  people 
gave  advice,"  stammered  Nanny.  "  And  be- 
sides, my  teacher  said  this  was  an  allegory." 

"  Oh,  tell  us  about  morals,"  cried  Mars,  laying 
aside  his  book  and  going  to  Aunt  Ann's  side, 
stimulated  to  a  desire  for  knowledge  because 
there  was  something  in  dispute,  "  tell  us  all 
about  'em." 

"  I  should  like  to  know  how  there's  any  moral 
in  anything  so  interesting  as  this,"  persisted 
Nanny,  in  an  aggrieved  voice,  running  the  leaves 
of  her  book  through  her  fingers. 

"  Well,  since  Mars  is  anxious  to  know,  I  will 
tell  you  as  nearly  as  I  can,"  replied  Aunt  Ann. 
"  You  think  it  is  all  delightful  story,  but  the  story 
means  a  great  deal.  We  are  all  doing  every 


"Here  is    Six."  27 

day  very  much  the  same  things  that  Christian 
did.  He  was  determined  to  follow  Christ,  and 
yet  how  many  temptations  were  in  his  way,  and 
how  difficult  he  found  the  task  he  had  under- 
taken. What  we  so  much  admire  in  him  is  that 
he  was  bold  and  full  of  courage.  He  was  not 
easily  frightened,  nor  turned  hack.  And  all  this 
is  told,  so  that  we  may  realize  how  much  is  to  be 
gained  by  strength  in  doing  right ;  and  where 
the  moral  lies  is,  in  our  being  made  to  see  that 
though  the  path  of  duty  is  a  difficult  one,  yet  it 
Jeads  to  glorious  places." 

Mars  was  all  interest.  "  I  want  to  know  if 
Christian  had  to  fight,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Aunt  Ann,  "  a  great  many 
times,  and  he  had  to  suffer,  too.  Nanny,  dear, 
you  must  not  get  the  idea  that  a  moral  is  the 
unpleasant  part  of  a  stor}r." 

"To  me  it  is,"  said  Nanny,  quickly.  "I 
always  skip  it.  It's  dull,  and  don't  tell  any 
news." 

"  Yet,"  pursued  Aunt  Ann,  not  liking  to  leave 
Nanny  with  such  a  perverse  idea  in  her  head, 
"you  realize  that  what  I  tell  you  about  the 


28  Heart's    Content. 

moral  in  the  Pilgrim's  Progress  is  true,  I  am 
sure.  You  must  find  it  in  every  page." 

"  Yes,"  rather  hesitated  Nanny,  "  I  think  it 
is.  If  that's  a  moral,  I  don't  dislike  it." 

"You  see,"  said  Aunt  Ann,  "  the  book  shows 
you  that  temptations  in  the  way  are  like  roaring 
lions.  The  Hill  Difficulty  is  a  weary  one,  and 
the  Slough  of  Despond  a  dreadful  mire." 

Then  Mars  began  to  tease  : 

"  Oh,  Nanny,  read  it  to  me,  please,  or  else  let 
me  take  the  book,  and  I'll  lend  you  mine." 

"I'm  much  obliged,"  said  Nanny,  resuming 
her  reading,  "  but  I  prefer  my  own."  : 

"  Mars,"  said  Aunt  Ann,  coaxingly,  "be 
patient  until  Nanny  has  finished  it,  and  then, 
since  you  are  so  fond  of  morals,  I  will  read  it  to 
you,  and  we  will  enjoy  it  together.  Finish  your 
own  book,  now,  while  I  go  to  see  that  little  sister 
June  is  taken  care  of.  And  if  you  want  to  ba 
like  Christian,  }-ou  will  be  patient  until  you  can 
learn  more  about  him." 

At  this  she  patted  his  head,  which  always 
seemed  a  wise  thing  to  do,  for  there  was  so  much 
natural  rebellion  in  it  that  one  felt  like  being 
assured  that  the  cover  was  well  on,  lest  it  should 


u  Here  is   Six."'  29 

boil  over  at  the  top.  Then  she  went  down-stairs 
again. 

But  Mars  was  on  the  subject,  and  could  not 
keep  still. 

"Nanny,  if  you  hate  morals,"  he  began,  "you 
won't  find  but  one  in  my  book,  and  that's  a 
beautiful  one  "  —  but  before  he  could  make  any 
definite  proposition,  Nanny  sprang  up  and  fol- 
lowed Aunt  Ann  down-stairs.  She  went  out 
into  the  garden,  and  perched  herself  in  the  low 
crotch  of  a  peach-tree,  where  she  read  and  nib- 
bled her  finger  nails,  unconscious  of  the  whole 
world,  until  she  was  called  in  to  supper. 

It  was  Aunt  Ann  who  called,  "  Come,  Nanny," 
but  still  she  lagged  to  finish  one  more  fascinat- 
ing paragraph. 

Then  again  the  patient  voice  admonished, 
"  Come,  Nanny,  I  want  you  to  be  a  good  girl, 
and  not  give  me  any  trouble." 

This  last  plea  she  obeyed,  reading  as  she 
went. 

After  supper  the  minutes  were  not  so  slow. 
The  dark  shut  down  over  Heart's  Content,  and 
the  important  though  wholly  uneventful  first 
Sunday  of  the  new  sister  was  over  at  last. 


30  Heart's    Content. 

On  the  following  morning  it  was  a  grateful 
relief  to  the  entire  house  that  the  children  could 
be  got  off  to  school.  Nanny  braided  her  own 
thick  locks,  but  Aunt  Ann  had  the  task  of 
brushing  out  and  arranging  Jane's  long  dark 
braids,  as  well  as  Trudge's  flaxen  ones.  Marsie's 
only  toilet  was  a  futile  attempt  on  his  part  to 
divide  in  a  boy  line,  at  one  side,  his  ruddy  scrub- 
bing-brush hair,  and  to  put  on  a  clean  collar, 
and  tie  the  ribbon  at  his  throat.  But  even  that 
was  too  much  of  a  detention  for  his  patience, 
and  he  endured  it  only  with  a  deep  wrinkle  in 
his  forehead,  which  was  his  Grossest  signal. 

Trudge  was  too  little  for  school,  but  had  re- 
sisted being  kept  at  home  with  such  a  vigor  of 
grief,  that  she  had  finally  become  one  of  the  reg- 
ular attendants  —  sunburned,  and  sweet  as  a 
peach,  always  with  her  little  green  primer  under 
her  arm. 

In  the  wet  spring  months  Aunt  Ann  had  tried 
to  teach  Marsie  and  the  girls  at  home  —  that  is, 
to  have  a  real  school,  with  real  study  hours  and 
rules.  But  it  could  never  be  very  well  disci- 
plined, from  the  fact  that  the  play-room  had  to 
be  used  as  a  school-room ;  and  there  were  too 


"Here  is    Six"  81 

many  doll's  boxes  and  other  playthings  in  sight, 
for  the  peace  of  mind  of  either  pupils  or  teacher. 
And  moreover,  the  study  had  been  very  irregular. 

Mars  generally  buried  both  outspread  hands 
in  his  hair,  and  settled  into  an  attitude  of  close 
research  for  the  space  of  a  half  hour,  perhaps ; 
and,  if  his  lesson  could  be  heard  at  once,  could 
manage  to  skim  along  glibly  enough  through  his 
geography  and  spelling.  But  delay  was  fatal ; 
for  he  forgot  it  all  as  fast  as  he  learned  it,  and 
could  never  get  it  a  second  time  without  a  siege 
of  bad  temper.  So  he  generally  got  off  early ; 
while  Nanny  was  sure  to  be  the  last  one  out. 

Her  way  was  to  set  the  rest  laughing  if  she 
could  —  anything  to  make  things  go  rather 
gaily  —  and  only  to  study  when  crowded  to  it 
by  the  near  dinner-hour,  or  by  the  signs  of  ap- 
proaching night.  Trudge  loved  her  primer  next 
to  her  doll ;  and  Jane  was  non-committal  and 
gentle  always,  which  rendered  her  neither  a  very 
troublesome  pupil,  nor  a  very  satisfactory  one. 

Don,  who  had  never  been  included  in  the  gov- 
erness plan,  generally  came  home  redolent  of 
base  ball  or  kite  flying,  and  made  a  great  flour- 


32  Heart's  Content. 

i?h  before  Mars  of  his  town-acquired  knowledge, 
which  had  helped  to  render  the  home-teaching 
still  more  difficult,  as  each  boast  was  simply  a 
seed  of  discontent.  Mars  was  just  credulous 
enough  to  listen  with  open-mouthed  admiration 
to  Don's  trumpet  blowing.  All  was  heroic  that 
he  did  not  understand,  or  could  not  share.  But 
his  deference  was  only  to  the  extent  of  his  lack 
of  experience  ;  for  in  all  home  matters  he  never 
failed  to  contest  every  inch  of  ground  with 
Don. 

"  What  a  little  fighter  you  are,  Mars,"  Don 
would  say.  "If  I  say  a  thing,  or  do  a  thing, 
you  go  off  like  a  pistol,  and  I'd  have  you  under- 
stand I  don't  fight  small  boys  !  " 

"  But  you  try  to  boss  me,  you  do,  Don  — you 
know  you  do !  "  was  Marsie's  defence. 

"  No,  I  don't,  simpleton.  It's  because  you've 
got  such  a  temper.  You're  so  afraid  of  your 
dignity  that  you  resent  everything,  and  the  way 
you  resent  is  to  fight.' 

And  Don  was  right.  The  two  could  not  agree 
because  one  would  patronize,  and  the  other 
would  not  be  patronized. 


"Here  is  Six"  33 

But  when  Mars  himself  was  let  to  go  to 
school,  much  of  this  daggers-drawn  condition 
was  modified,  and  the  conflicts  were  lessened  in 
degree,  if  not  in  frequency.  And  Aunt  Ann  was 
not  sorry  to  have  the  weight  of  that  responsibil- 
ity lifted  from  her  shoulders. 


CHAPTER  III. 

STORY  TELLINQ. 

"  I  will  tell  it  softly, 

Yon  crickets  shall  not  hear  it, 

AMONG  the  varied  dispositions  in  our  little 
flock,  Jane's  was  not  the  least  difficult  of 
management.  Less  boisterous  and  unruly,  per- 
haps, than  any  of  the  others,  yet  her  very  silence 
and  reflectiveness,  added  to  a  somewhat  morbid 
conscientiousness,  made  it  a  delicate  task  to  see 
that  she  was  rightly  guided  and  enlightened. 

She  believed  implicitly  in  her  father  and 
mother,  and  in  Aunt  Ann,  and  because  of  that 
extreme  trust,  she  rarely  asked  questions.  In- 
deed, her  faith  was  so  absolute  that  there  was 
never  even  the  impulse  to  questions,  as  with 
most  children.  So  when  she  really  very  much 
34 


Story  Telling.  35 

needed  some  one  to  set  her  right,  she  plodded 
along  alone  among  the  fogs  and  rocks,  stumbling 
and  bewildered. 

Aunt  Ann  found  this  little  girl's  quiet  so 
soothing  to  her  often  tired  spirit,  that  it  was  her 
habit  to  take  her  with  her  to  her  room,  and  there 
to  read  to  her,  and  to  teach  her  to  sing  hymns 
out  of  the  old-fashioned  hymn-book. 

These  quiet  withdrawals  she  called  their  "  love 
feasts."  It  was  about  the  only  time  Aunt  Ann 
had,  where  she  could  do  all  the  talking,  with  no 
one  to  interrupt  her. 

During  these  feasts,  Jane  drank  in  a  no  trifling 
amount  of  knowledge  and  truth  —  for  Aunt  Ann 
never  read  anything  but  the  Bible — but  at  the 
same  time  she  also  got  a  bitter  draught  of  doubt. 
This  came  from  the  fact  that,  while  she  sup- 
posed she  understood  it  all,  her  credulous  mind 
only  caught  the  literal  meaning. 

"  Cast  thy  bread  upon  the  waters,  and  thou 
shalt  find  it  after  many  days,"  read  Aunt  Ann, 
in  her  sweet  pious  voice,  a  precept  she  was  prac- 
tising every  day  of  her  life. 

From  hearing  it  often,  the  idea  peculiarly 
struck  Jane's  fancy,  and  she  wasted  no  time  in 


36  Heart's  Content. 

following  it  out.  Over  in  a  near  field  was  a 
little  pond,  in  which  grew  rushes  and  cat-tails, 
and  which  was  always  surrounded  with  a  vague 
dread  to  the  children  on  account  of  snakes. 

To  this  Jane  went  with  her  pocket  full  of 
bread,  which  she  scattered  upon  its  surface,  con- 
fidently expecting  to  find  it  again  hi  due  time, 
and  to  restore  it  to  the  table. 

It  was  not  a  pleasant  task  to  go,  day  after 
'day,  as  she  did  for  many  weeks,  to  search  for 
the  bread  amongst  the  grasses  and  weeds  of  the 
ponds,  yet  she  performed  that  duty  with  cheer- 
ful persistence,  until,  at  last,  with  a  dreadful 
heart-sinking,  she  was  forced  to  give  it  up. 
Even  then  she  did  not  tell  Aunt  Ann,  but 
grieved  in  silence  over  the  shadow  of  doubt  that 
had  fallen  upon  her  Bible. 

During  Aunt  Ann's  "love  feasts"  the  two 
voices  could  be  heard,  crooning  the  dear  old 
tunes — Aunt  Ann's  a  suppressed  soprano,  and 
Jane's  alighting  upon  the  notes  at  random,  never 
bold  nor  skillful,  but  always  timorous,  and  of 
most  extraordinary  irregularity  of  register. 

It  seemed  to  Nanny  such  a  stupid  business  to 
stay  in  one  room  for  any  length  of  time,  she 


Story  Telling.  37 

wondered  what  they  found  to  enjoy,  but  iheir 
music  itself  was  a  source  of  the  liveliest  amuse- 
ment to  her. 

"  Do  hear  Jane  sing  ! "  was  her  laughing  cry 
to  Mars  ;  and  they  two  would  stand  side  by  side, 
and  with  long-drawn  faces  imitate  the  pensive 
duet. 

"  It  sounds  just  like  the  kittens  in  the  barn," 
said  Mars. 

After  the  advent  of  the  baby  the  love  feasts 
had  to  be  abandoned,  and  Jane's  musical  culture 
was  neglected. 

Yet,  now  and  then,  of  a  rainy  evening,  Aunt 
Ann  gathered  such  of  the  flock  about  her 
as  were  controllable,  and  told  them  stories. 
"  David  and  Goliath  "  was  Mars's  favorite,  and 
"  Moses  in  the  bulrushes  "  Jane's.  Don  was  in- 
dependent of  others  for  his  entertainment,  as  he 
had  become  the  possessor  of  "  Plutarch's  Lives," 
which  he  read  assiduously. 

One  night  the  rain  set  in  heavily  before  sun- 
down. Aunt  Ann  felt  she  had  a  siege  before 
her  between  that  and  bed-time,  in  amusing  the 
children,  and  in  keeping  the  peace  between 
them. 


38  Heart's  Content. 

At  supper-time  she  hinted  that  she  had  dis- 
covered a  plan.  There  was  a  certain  mystery  in 
her  manner  which  excited  interest.  She  would 
only  say  that  unless  all  met  together  in  her 
room,  she  should  have  to  abandon  her  idea  — 
which  was  evidently  something  altogether  new 
and  wonderful.  The  truth  is,  poor  Aunt  Ann 
was  quite  as  much  in  the  dark  as  the  rest  as  to 
what  was  to  come,  her  plan  being  simply  to  keep 
them  all  as  still  as  possible,  so  that  their  mother 
need  not  be  disturbed. 

Driven  to  an  extremity,  at  length  a  bright 
thought  came  to  her,  that  by  levying  upon  each 
one  in  some  form  for  the  general  amusement,  she 
might  possibly  be  able  to  hold  their  fickle 
attention. 

They  were  eager  to  leave  the  supper-table  to 
go  to  her  room,  and  she  followed  them  there  as 
soon  as  possible  in  a  kind  of  helpless  dismay, 
putting  off  the  decided  moment  with  many  a 
little  subterfuge. 

She  lifted  Trudge  upon  her  knee  ;  Janey  sat 
on  a  stool  at  her  feet ;  Mars  crowded  close  to 
her  side,  so  as  to  be  certain  that  no  word  could 
drop  down  upon  the  floor  between  them  and  be 


Story  Telling.  39 

lost ;  while  Nanny  rocked  back  and  forth  in  her 
own  chair  within  reasonable  distance.  Don  had 
chosen  not  to  come  ;  he  must  study,  he  said. 

"  Now  what  is  the  plan  ?  "  began  impatient 
Mars. 

"  You  don't  give  me  time  to  tell  you,"  said 
Aunt  Ann.  "  You  hurry  me  so,  I  shall  forget 
everything." 

Mars  nestled,  and  declared  he  would  try  not 
to  hurry. 

"  Well,"  began  Aunt  Ann,  "  you  know  that 
for  a  long  time  you  have  called  upon  me  for 
stories,  stories,  and  I  have  always  told  them. 
One  would  think  I  had  been  made  of  stories,  and 
ate  and  drank,  and  even  breathed  stories,  you 
have  demanded  so  many.  You  have  never 
seemed  to  consider  that  I  had  any  rights  in  the 
matter,  at  all,  nor  that  possibly  I,  too,  might  like 
to  listen  to  a  story  in  turn.  Now  my  plan  is, 
that  since  it  is  rainy,  and  we  have  a  good  long 
evening  before  us,  you  shall  each  of  you  tell  me 
a  tale.  You  shall  choose  whichever  one  -you 
like,  and  Nanny  may  begin." 

Strange  to  say,  and  quite  to  Aunt  Ann's  sur- 
prise, the  "  plan  "  became  popular  at  once. 


40  Heart's    Content. 

"  It  isn't  any  more  than  fair,"  decided  Mars, 
and  I  know  what  one  I  shall  tell.  Giant  Blun- 
derbore  is  mine." 

"  Hush,  my  dear,"  said  Aunt  Ann,  "  you  must 
wait  your  turn.  Now,  Nanny  !  " 

Nanny  began  : 

"  My  story  will  be  about  a  French  queen,  and 
I  read  it  in  Abbott's  Histories.  She  was  very 
beautiful,  and  she  used  to  dress  up  as  a  shep- 
herdess, and  have  a  dairy.  But  tljere  came  a 
revolution,  and  the  people  cried,  *  Down  with 
the  Austrian,'  and  so  she  and  the  king  were  both 
sent  to  prison  —  I've  forgotten  what  the}r  did 
then  with  her  son,  the  prince.  The  king  was  exe- 
cuted first,  and  the  cruel  part  of  it  was,  the  queen 
had  to  know  all  about  it ;  but  she  was  very 
brave.  Then  she  was  tried,  and  the  trial  was 
unjust,  and  the  day  after  they  led  her  to  the 
scaffold.  She  was  dressed  in  pure  white,  and 
had  her  arms  fastened  behind  her.  All  along 
the  way  to  the  execution  the  house-tops  and 
windows,  and  even  the  trees  were  filled  with 
people  to  see  her.  It  was  a  very,  very  wicked 
thing  for  the  French  people  to  do  —  very  wicked. 
But  I  like  the  story  because  it  is  so  sad." 


Story  Telling.  41 

Nanny's  story  was  very  acceptable,  and  was  of 
such  a  tragic  and  vivid  character,  that  Jane, 
whose  turn  it  was  next,  found  it  hard  to  begin 
the  one  she  had  decided  upon  telling.  But 
kindly  encouraged  by  Aunt  Ann,  and  urged  on 
by  Mars,  she  started  out  timidly : 

"  Once  upon  a  time  there  were  some  shep- 
herds watching  their  flocks  upon  a  plain,  and  it 
was  in  the  night.  All  at  once  there  came  a 
great  light,  and  they  were  afraid.  But  it  was 
an  angel  from  God,  and  he  said,  *  Fear  not,  for  I 
bring  you  glad  tidings  of  great  joy.'  And  then 
a  whole  cloud  full  of  angels  appeared,  and  they 
sang,  '  Peace  on  earth,  good  will  toward  men.' 

"This  was  because  Christ  had  been  born. 
The  shepherds  were  not  frightened  any  more, 
but  they  said,  'let  us  go  and  see.'  And  so  they 
travelled  a  long  way  and  came  to  Bethlehem. 
And  there  they  found  a  beautiful  baby  in  a 
stable.  It  lay  in  a  manger,  and  the  oxen  were 
in  their  stalls  but  nothing  hurt  it.  because  it  was 
Jesus.  And  there  were  wise  men  there  who  had 
brought  gifts  to  it,  and  they  knelt  down  and 
worshipped  it." 

Little  Jane's  voice  died  out  almost  to  a  wins- 


42  Heart's    Content. 

per,  through  shyness,  before  she  had  finished  her 
story.  But  they  all  liked  it,  and  Nanny  felt 
quite  eclipsed. 

"•  Now  it's  Mars's  turn  !  "  they  cried. 

"Alexander  was  a  great  fighter,"  he  began, 
amidst  a  general  smile.  "  And  he  was  a  king, 
and  went  to  war,  and  he  whipped  the  whole 
world.  He  fought  battles  all  the  while  with  big 
guns,  but  when  he  had  whipped  everybody,  he 
sat  down  and  cried." 

"  Why  did  he  cry  ?  "  inquired  Trtidge,  won- 
deringly,  as  Mars  paused,  surprised  to  find  his 
story  come  so  abruptly  to  an  end. 

"  Because,"  he  replied,  scornfully,  "  there 
wasn't  anybody  else  to  lick." 

"  Is  that  all  ?  "  asked  Jane,  gently,  when  a 
still  longer  pause  ensued. 

"  Yes,"  Mars  answered,  with  a  heavy  sigh,  still 
amazed  to  find  he  had  finished. 

"'Twas  a  very  nice  one,"  whispered  Jane, 
never  failing  in  her  approval  to  Mars. 

"  Now  what  story  has  little  Trudge  to  tell  ?  " 
said  Aunt  Ann,  turning  to  the  little  butter-ball 
in  her  lap. 

"  I  only  know  about   pussy  spinning  in  the 


Story  Telling.  43 

oven,  and  along  came  a  little  mouse  and  tangled 
her  rolls,"  blushed  Trudge. 

Then  she  hid  her  face  against  Aunt  Ann,  and 
could  only  be  drawn  out  of  that  concealment 
with  some  effort. 

"  Oh,  you  little  ostrich,"  cried  Nanny.  "  Come 
out  and  tell  your  story." 

"  1  11  tell  it,"  cried  Mars,  eagerly.  "  I  know 
it." 

This  was  done  solely  to  rouse  Trudge's  ambi- 
tion, for  Mars  had  by  no  means  yet  recovered 
from  his  astonishment  at  his  own  brevity.  The 
ruse  succeeded,  for  in  an  almost  inaudible  voice 
she  went  through  the  skipping  and  tripping 
measure  of  the  story. 

She  was  greeted  with  a  great  deal  of  applause 
for  her  performance. 

Aunt  Ann's  little  plan  had  been  surprisingly 
successful.  In  trying  to  interest  others,  she  had 
herself  become  interested,  which  is  a  method 
worth  remembering. 

"  Now,"  cried  Nanny,  "  Aunt  Ann  hasn't  told 
us  any  story,  and  so  her  part  will  be  to  tell  us 
which  she  likes  best  of  ours." 

All  agreed  that  that  was  fair. 


44  Heart's  Content. 

"  You  place  me  in  quite  a  dilemma,"  protested 
Aunt  Ann.  "Each  was  good,  yet  all  were 
different." 

"But  you  must  tell,  you  must  tell ! "  they  all 
clamored. 

"  Of  course  I  think  there  can  be  no  hesitation 
in  deciding  as  to  which  is  the  best,''  said  Aunt 
Ann.  "  If  I  choose,  you  must  remember  that  I 
do  not  reflect  upon  any  one's  choice,  or  manner 
of  telling.  But  there  is  no  story  in  the  history 
of  the  world  so  important  to  us,  nor  one  so  beau- 
tiful as  the  one  which  the  angels  told  to  the 
shepherds  on  the  plains  of  Judea  that  night. 
We  all  know  what  a  precious  thing  it  is  to  have 
a  little  sister  born,  but  think  what  it  was  when 
the  Saviour  of  the  world  opened  his  holy  eyes  in 
that  humble  manger  ! 

""Not  any  story  that  can  be  told  conveys  so 
much  of  tenderness  and  love  as  that.  The  his- 
tory of  Marie  Antoinette  is  very  touching,  and 
Alexander's  wars  were  great,  and  his  victories 
many;  but  Christ  born  into  the  world  means 
atonement  for  the  sins  of  the  world,  and  the  hope 
of  everlasting  life.  We  can  listen  to  it  every 


Story  Telling.  45 

day,  and  yet  it  always  has  new  force  and 
meaning." 

They  seemed  to  like  to  listen  to  her,  so  she 
continued : 

"  I  always  have  such  a  picture  in  my  mind  of 
the  plains  of  Judea  that  night.  Perhaps  it  was 
chilly,  and  the  stars  looked  cold;  or  perhaps  a 
wind  blew,  or  the  dew  wet  their  garments.  At 
any  rate,  it  was  lonely  and  solemn  there,  and  if 
the  tired  shepherds  laid  down  to  rest,  the  rocky 
places  must  have  bruised  them.  Then  when  the 
glory  shone  on  them,  they  rose  with  startled 
faces  and  heavily-beating  hearts.  Then  the  mes- 
sage that  they  heard  must  have  filled  them  with 
awe  and  wonder,  for  how  could  they  all  at  once 
understand  the  marvellous  words,  'Peace  on 
earth,  good  will  toward  men,'  coming  down  to 
them  upon  those  desolate  fields.  They  believed 
it,  though,  for  they  left  their  flocks,  to  find  the 
Holy  Babe." 

Aunt  Ann  paused  a  little  as  if  in  thought. 

"  Not  the  least  beautiful  part  of  the  story  to 
me,"  she  continued,  "  is,  that  though  the  star 
shone  in  the  East  to  guide  the  wise  men,  yet  to 
the  simple  and  unknown  watchers  of  flocks  God 


46  Heart's  Content. 

deigned  to  send  one  of  his  own  angels,  with  the 
most  blessed  message  ever  given  to  man.  From 
the  very  beginning  of  the  earthly  life  of  Christ, 
He  was  the  friend  of  the  obscure  and  humble, 
and  you  know,  too,  that  he  loved  little  children. 
You  must  think  of  the  story  often,  dears,  for  it 
is  always  a  comfort." 

At  the  beginning  of  the  evening,  Aunt  Ann 
had  feared  trouble  in  getting  and  keeping  her 
charge  together,  but  the  real  trouble  came  in 
dismissing  them,  and  in  getting  the  good-nights 
said  without  reluctance. 

They  were  loth  to  listen  to  her  final,  "  Well; 
children,"  for  that  meant  conclusion.  Trudge 
was  gently  set  aside,  and  Mars,  who  from  crowd- 
ing had  ended  in  leaning  his  whole  weight  upon 
her,  was  restored  to  his  feet ;  "  all  say  good- 
night," she  commanded,  cheerily,  and  linger- 
ingly  the  little  story-tellers  dispersed. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

MABS'S  ADVENTURE. 

"  A  full-hot  horse,  who  being  allowed  his  way 
Self-mettle  tires  him." 

THESE  days  of  a  new  sister  proved  very 
trying  ones  to  Mars.  Mamma's  control 
was  virtually  withdrawn,  and  without  it  the 
impetuous  little  fellow  got  into  continual  trouble. 
Don  loved  to  teaze  him,  and  said  that  if  ever 
there  was  a  volcano  in  the  world,  it  was  just 
under  Marsie's  hair. 

A  volcano  was  defined  in  Mars's  geography  as 

"  a  mountain  which  sends  forth  fire  and  smoke," 

and  so  firmly  did  he  believe  what  Don  said,  that 

he  would  not  have  been  at  all  surprised  if  at 

47 


48  Heart's    Content. 

any  time  he  had  felt  little  puffs  of  blue  smoke 
coming  out  from  under  his  hat. 

Then  Nanny  had  a  way  of  testing  his  tern 
perature,  when  all  had  reason  to  believe  that  the 
thermometer  was  running  pretty  high,  and  that 
was  by  wetting  the  end  of  her  finger  and  apply- 
ing it  to  Mars's  head,  as  a  laundress  does  hers  to 
a  hot  flat-iron. 

This  did  not  increase  the  peace  in  the  family, 
and  Nanny  was  usually  wise  enough  to  dance 
off  out  of  reach  as  quickly  as  possible  after  it. 

Poor  little  Mars  always  fell  into  the  trap,  no 
matter  how  often  it  was  set  for  him.  He  could 
not  realize  that  if  he  would  keep  cool,  and  not 
fly  into  a  passion,  Don  and  Nanny  would  "find  no 
zest  in  teazing  him.  But  he  always  did  just  as 
they  delighted  in  seeing  him  do  — burst  out  into 
an  angry  tempest,  which  only  made  Don  laugh 
until  his  sides  ached. 

Then,  when  the  fury  was  exhausted,  he  would 
wheedle  Mars  a  little,  say  one  or  two  softening 
words,  at  which  the  little  bristling  crop  of  tow 
hair  would  smooth  itself,  and  the  little  crimson 
face  become  peaceful  and  good-natured  again. 


Mars's  Adventure,  49 

"Oh,  Mars,"  Don  would  say,  "your  temper 
will  bring  you  to  the  gallows  yet!  "  which  Mars 
firmly  believed.  Nor  can  it  be  said  that  he 
regretted  it.  He  only  knew  Don  said  so,  and  of 
course  Don  knew. 

At  one  time  a  clergyman  was  visiting  the 
house,  who  patted  Mars  upon  the  shoulder  and 
asked : 

"  Well,  my  boy,  what  are  you  going  to  do 
when  you  get  to  be  a  man  ?" 

Mars's  reply  was  as  sincere  as  it  was  shocking : 

"  I  am  going  to  be  hung." 

In  the  morning  of  this  day,  whose  adventure 
we  have  to  relate,  everything  had  gone  wrong. 
In  dressing  himself  a  button  had  come  off;  in 
washing  himself  Don  had  pushed  his  head  down 
into  the  bowl,  which  was  a  great  indignity ; 
and  before  nine  o'clock  Mars  had  fully  deter- 
mined to  run  away. 

The  crowning  grievance  which  had  settled 
him  upon  this  course  had  come  from  his  mother. 
She  was  very  busy,  as  usual,  and  he  had  burst 
into  her  room,  and  with  a  somewhat  boisterous 
voice  demanded  his  soldier's  cap,  as  the  boys 
were  getting  ready  near  by  for  a  parade. 


50  Heart's   Content. 

"  Be  more  gentle,  my  son,"  she  said,  "  and 
look  for  it,  yourself.  You  will  probably  find  it 
where  you  left  it." 

"  I  won't  live  here  any  longer,"  stamped  Mars, 
all  the  morning's  troubles  rushing  to  his  hasty 
little  head.  "I  will  run  away  !  I  will !  I  will !  " 

The  mother  quite  used  to  his  explosions,  said 
gently : 

"  Well,  Marsie,  if  you  run  away,  you  must 
first  let  your  father  know  what  you  intend 
to  do." 

At  which  words  Mars  flew  up-stairs  to  the 
library,  which  was  his  father's  study,  more 
angry,  if  possible,  than  at  first. 

His  father  looked  up  pleasantly  as  the  little 
tornado  burst  into  his  presence,  hot  displeasure 
flaming  in  every  feature  and  look. 

"  Well,  my  son,"  said  Mr.  Lawrence,  serenely, 
"what  can  I  do  for  }rou  ?  " 

"I'm  going  to  run  away,  stormed  Mars," 
"  and  I  want  my  money." 

Mars's  father  acted  in  the  capacity  of  banker 
to  him.  When  he  had  any  pocket-money  which 
was  not  in  immediate  demand  for  candy  or  toys, 


Mars's  Adventure.  51 

he  gave  it  to  his  father  to  keep  for  him.  This 
he  drew  as  occasion  required.  For  example,  if 
he  had  ten  cents  on  deposit,  and  happened  to 
want  twenty-five,  he  drew  on  his  banker  with 
the  utmost  business  coolness,  and  generally 
got  it. 

This  time,  however,  his  father  was  more  par- 
ticular, and  asked : 

"  How  much  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  I  want  fifty  cents,"  said  Mars,  not  a  whit 
backward  or  repentant. 

"  But  I  have  only  ten  cents  of  yours,"  replied 
his  father.  "  You  deposited  ten  cents  yester- 
day," and  adding,  as  he  paid  it  over  to  him, 
"  what  are  you  going  to  run  away  for  ?  " 

"  I  don't  like  the  way  mother  acts,  and  Don 
pushed  my  head  into  the  water  this  morning  — 
and  —  Mars  was  conscious  that  his  grievances 
were  not  very  great ;  and  possibly  he  began  to 
cool  off  a  little,  supposing  that  his  father  would 
try  to  persuade  him  not  to  go. 

But  instead,  Mr.  Lawrence  calmly  resumed 
his  book,  and,  after  lingering  a  little,  Mara 
started. 


52  Hearts  Content. 

"  Good-bye,"  said  his  father,  pleasantly. 

Mars  replied  "  good-bye,"  with  half-abated 
courage. 

But  it  must  not  be  inferred  that  he  was  sorry 
yet.  On  his  way  out  he  passed  his  mother's 
door,  and  she  smiled  on  him  with  a  kind  nod, 
as  she  was  wont ;  but  she  did  not  even  hint  that 
he  could  change  his  mind. 

Out  he  went  upon  the  street  at  rather  slower 
pace  than  usual,  sturdily  ignoring  the  bo}"S  at 
the  corner,  with  their  peaked  paper  caps  on,  and 
one  of  them  beating  a  drum.  They  noticed 
him,  but  with  boyish  intuition  supposed  he  had 
been  sent  on  an  errand. 

He  wore  neither  his  play  gait  nor  manner. 
His  custom  was  a  wild  bang  of  the  door,  and  a 
three-steps-at-a-time  way  of  getting  down  the 
door-steps.  Now  he  went  decidedly,  as  if  he 
was  being  made  useful — reluctantly,  with  bent 
brows  and  tardy  feet. 

He  was  planning.  He  could  go  to  sea.  In 
story  books,  running  away  meant  that ;  and  he 
was  running  away,  after  many  threats  to  that 
effect. 

He   went   down    the    busy  street,    thinking 


Mars's  Adventure.  53 

deeply.  He  passed  all  the  familiar  places,  and 
walked  towards  the  farther  suburbs.  To  go  to 
places  he  did  not  know  well,  made  running  away 
more  genuine. 

But  he  felt  it  was  time  for  him  to  settle  upon 
something  definite  as  to  direction,  and  at  the 
very  thought  of  his  independence,  he  also  began 
to  feel  hungry.  He  knew  that  ten  cents  was 
a  very  small  sum,  and  that  he  should  have  to 
make  it  go  as  far  as  possible ;  so  he  bought  a 
stick  of  gum,  thinking  that  would  last  longer 
than  candy. 

Then  he  started  out  in  earnest.  Since  he  was 
a  hardy  little  fellow,  he  was  not  a  bit  abashed, 
but  began  to  take  an  interest  in  everything  about 
him. 

He  passed  through  the  suburbs,  and  out  upon 
an  open  country  road.  It  was  very  warm  and 
he  pulled  off  his  roundabout  and  walked  rap- 
idly. His  hat  was  square  upon  the  back  of  his 
head,  and  his  face  was  flushed  with  heat. 

But  he  tugged  along,  too  eager  to  whistle, 
with  a  vague  current  of  thought  in  his  mind, 
which  was  a  mixture  of  Robinson  Crusoe,  and 
Whittington  and  his  cat. 


54  Heart's  Content. 

But  it  grew  hotter  and  hotter.  He  was 
thirsty,  and  there  was  just  a  suspicion  of  weari- 
ness in  his  little  legs,  as  he  had  not  used  any 
wisdom  in  the  matter  of  economizing  his 
strength,  and  besides  he  began  to  feel  decidedly 
hungry. 

He  climbed  over  into  an  orchard  and  found 
some  half-ripe  apples,  which  he  ate  with  zest. 

It  was  almost  noon,  he  knew  by  the  sun,  and 
relaxing  his  speed  he  began  to  study  his  where- 
abouts. He  could  descry  in  the  distance  the 
top  of  -a  spire  and  the  roofs  of  some  houses. 
He  had  never  been  in  that  direction,  and  — 
proving  how  little  he  had  learned  in  his  geogra- 
phy—  he  thought  it  possibly  might  be  New 
York.  His  imagination  so  far  out-run  his  good 
sense  that  this  supposition  did  not  seem  to  him 
absurd.  In  fact  he  felt  inspired,  and  picked  up 
courage  and  strength  again. 

Poor  Marsie  ;  it  was  not  New  York,  but  only 
a  little  country  village,  with  grassy  streets  and 
quiet  trees,  and  only  now  and  then  a  human 
being  visible. 

When  he  reached  it,  as  he  did  after  more 
vigorous  walking,  he  slackened  his  pace,  and 


Mars's  Adventure.  55 

looked  into  the  windows  of  the  shops  as  he 
sauntered  along.  One  was  a  baker's  shop, 
evidently,  though  not  very  inviting. 

He  entered,  and  studied  the  stale  contents  of 
the  show-case.  After  some  mental  debate  he 
decided  upon  some  seed  cookies,  which  were  a 
penny  apiece.  He  took  six,  which  left  him 
three  cents.  These  he  ate  with  a  ravenous  rel- 
ish, standing  outside  the  shop,  and  wishing 
there  was  a  place  to  sit  down.  He  was  tired  of 
carrying  his  roundabout,  and  though  "  almost 
roasted,"  put  it  on  again. 

It  was  very  still  there,  with  the  noon  sun 
pouring  down  upon  everything,  and  a  shimmer 
of  heat  quivering  in  the  air.  Nobody  heeded 
him,  for  there  seemed  to  be  nobody  to  heed. 
Only  now  and  then  did  anybody  pass;  a  little 
girl  went  by  in  a  sun-bonnet,  carrying  a  pail ;  a 
slouching  man,  with  hands  in  his  pockets,  crept 
along  in  the  shade  from  a  low  shop,  evidently 
going  home  to  dinner ;  a  boy  skipped  past  with 
bare,  dirty  feet,  and  Mars  was  inclined  to  hail 
him ;  but  a  patrician  contempt  of  his  style  pre- 
vented him. 

In  fact,  it  was  all  very  dispiriting.     It  was 


66  Heart's  Content. 

not  in  the  least  adventurous  or  exciting,  and  he 
was  by  this  time  pretty  tired. 

-At  last  when  another  boy,  no  less  dirty  than 
the  first,  went  past,  he  hailed  him  : 

"  Sa}%  what  place  is  this  ?  "  and  got  for  reply  : 

"  Murray's  Corners." 

"  How  far  from  Amisburgh?  " 

"Five  miles." 

Now  at  least  he  had  the  satisfaction  of  know- 
ing where  he  was,  for  he  had  heard  this  name 
before,  without  ever  the  least  idea  of  its  locality. 

How  dismal  it  was  !  The  monotonous  country 
road  seemed  better  to  him  than  this  little  sleepy 
town.  In  his  dissatisfaction  a  new  idea  struck 
him.  If  he  had  only  gone  directly  to  the  river, 
that  would  have  led  him  to  some  big  city,  and 
that  was  what  he  should  have  done.  Perhaps  it 
was  not  too  late ;  but  then  going  to  the  river, 
involved  going  directly  back  to  Amisburgh. 
Could  he  not  go  back  and  start  over  again  ? 

He  received  this  thought  with  reluctance, 
and  only  by  slow  degrees  would  admit  it.  But 
his  mind  was  so  plastic,  and  his  childish  impet- 
uosity so  headlong,  that  it  took  but  half  an 


Mars' 8  Adventure.  57 

hour  to  determine  him,  and  back  he  started 
under  the  midda}r  sun,  over  the  long  and  lone- 
some road. 

His  feet  felt  sore,  and  disappointment  made 
him  very  conscious  of  it;  he  was  tired  too,  and 
missed  his  good  dinner,  and  moreover  he  won- 
dered what  Don  was  doing. 

On,  and  on  he  went,  calculating  from  point  to 
point  in  the  road,  how  many  steps  it  would  take 
to  reach  such  a  rock,  or  such  a  tree.  This  he 
did  to  beguile  the  weary  journey. 

At  last  he  felt  that  he  must  rest.  Near  at 
hand  a  brook  gurgled  along  through  a  meadow 
which  had  been  newly  mown.  He  climbed  the 
fence,  drank  a  full  draught,  wet  his  head  — 
which  was  already  dripping  —  in  the  cool  water, 
and  then  laid  down  on  a  heap  of  the  scented 
hay. 

The  shadow  of  a  tree  kept  off  the  direct  rays 
of  the  sun,  and  the  delightful  sense  of  repose 
lulled  him  soon  into  drowsiness.  Then  he  fell 
asleep  —  poor  tired  little  wrong-doer  ! 

How  long  he  lay  he  could  not  tell,  but  was 
wakened  by  the  heat  of  the  descending  sun  full 
upon  his  face.  The  shadow  of  the  tree  had 


58  Heart's  Content. 

moved  to  the  eastward,  leaving  him  in  the  direct 
glare.  He  sprang  up  bewildered,  and  at  a  loss 
to  know  where  he  was. 

In  one  sense  he  felt  rested  :  but  the  rest  only 
served  to  show  him  how  tired  he  really  was.  He 
soon  recalled  all  the  day's  adventures ;  and  since 
he  was  entirely  over  his  anger  now,  and  over  his 
excitement,  his  heart  dropped  heavily. 

He  thought  of  home,  of  Don,  and  Nanny,  and 
Jane,  and  Trudge.  He  realized  that  he  had  run 
away  for  good.  A  sob  rose  in  his  throat,  and  a 
tear  or  two  stole  over  his  hot  cheeks.  But  Mars 
had  not  a  grain  of  cowardice  in  him.  He  did 
not  do  hasty  things,  and  then  grow  frightened 
when  the  results  were  unpleasant.  Whatever 
came,  whether  through  his  fault,  or  the  fault  of 
others,  his  disposition  was  to  stand  up  like  a 
little  man  and  bear  his  part. 

So,  brushing  his  eyes  hastily  with  the  sleeve 
of  his  roundabout,  he  climbed  over  again  into 
the  road,  and  trudged  along. 

Very  glad  indeed  was  he  when  he  came  in 
sight  of  Amisburgh,  and  knew  that  he  was  near 
home  again. 

He    had   not    planned  in   advance   what  he 


Mars's  Adventure.  59 

should  do ;  but  what  he  did  do  was  to  find  the 
shortest  way  home,  and  to  walk  that  way  with 
all  the  speed  possible.  Only  when  he  came  in 
sight  of  the  house  did  his  courage  fail  him.  A 
sense  of  shame  came  over  him,  and  he  did  not 
know  what  to  do  next. 

It  was  sunset,  and  a  little  dash  of  rain  had 
sprinkled  the  street  and  made  it  cool.  Where 
he  had  been  not  a  drop  had  fallen.  The  chil- 
dren's voices  sounded  happy  at  their  evening 
play.  People  sat  out  upon  their  piazzas  and 
porches  to  enjoy  the  freshened  air,  and  Mars 
could  hardly  bear  the  trial  of  facing  them,  after 
what  he  had  done. 

So  when  near  home  he  ran  down  the  lane,  and 
slipped  into  the  barn  by  a  back  way.  This  was 
the  crisis.  How  could  he  ever  meet  his  father 
and  mother,  and  what  would  Don  sa}*,  if  he 
knew  that  he  was  there  ? 

He  resolved  to  hide ;  and  so  he  clambered 
upon  a  pile  of  hay,  and  sat  there  like  a  kitten 
until  it  grew  dark. 

After  a  little  he  heard  his  mother's  voice. 
She  had  come  out  to  pour  some  water  upon  a 


60  Hearts  Content. 

bed  of  choice  plants.  Her  voice  sounded  very 
sad  ;  but  Mars  was  glad  to  hear  it.  He  crawled 
down  from  his  perch  and  crept  out  into  the  gar- 
den, coming  up  to  where  she  stood,  with  her 
back  towards  him. 

"  Ma,"  he  said  softly ;  and  then  a  little  louder, 
«« ma." 

"  Marsie,"  she  cried,  "  where  are  you  ?  "  drop- 
ping her  watering-pot,  and  trembling. 

"Here,  ma,"  said  the  little  culprit,  meekly. 
"  I've  got  back  !  "  and  he  ran  to  her  side. 

"  Oh,  my  little  boy,"  she  said,  "  how  much 
trouble  you  have  made  us." 

He  put  his  arms  tenderly  around  her  neck,  no 
doubt  loving  her  just  as  much  as  if  he  had  not 
made  her  unhappy  all  day. 

"  Poor  little  headstrong  boy  !  "  she  said,  kneel- 
ing so  as  to  look  into  her  truant's  face,  "  where 
have  you  been  ?  " 

Then  Mars  began  to  sob,  and  laid  his  tired 
head  on  her  shoulder.  He  said  nothing,  but  she 
knew  the  hasty  child  was  repenting  his  naughty 
day's  work. 

She  called  to  Nanny,  sitting  on  the  front  door- 


Mars's  Adventure.  61 

step :  "  Run  and  find  your  father,  Nanny,  and 
tell  him  Mars  is  here !  "  Then  she  led  him  in, 
sat  him  down,  and  began  taking  off  the  dusty 
shoes  ;  while  Bridget,  full  of  "  ahs  "  and  "  ohs," 
in  all  keys  from  joy  to  reproach,  got  him  some 
bread  and  milk. 

"  Hello,  Mars,"  said  Don,  coming  in  with 
hands  in  his  pockets,  and  scanning  Mars  as  if  he 
were  a  curiosity,  "  where've  you  been  ?  " 

The  desire  to  seem  a  hero  to  Don  made  Mam 
dry  his  tears  at  once.  He  answered  with  a  very 
consequential  air : 

"  I've  been  way  over  to  Murray's  Corners." 

The  mother  could  hardly  hide  her  smile  at 
Marsie's  fickle  penitence. 

"  The  police  are  after  you,"  said  Don. 

And  indeed  they  were.  A  regular  search  for 
the  runaway  had  been  organized,  and  Mr.  Law- 
rence had  only  just  got  home  after  attending  to 
its  details.  It  was  only  towards  nightfall  that 
their  fright  had  become  serious,  for  all  supposed 
Mars  to  have  taken  refuge  with  some  friend,  and 
that  supper-time  would  be  sure  to  see  him  back. 
When  he  did  not  come,  however,  A  igorous  meas- 
ures had  been  taken  to  find  him. 


62  Heart's  Content. 

Don  was  sent  down  street  to  announce  that 
the  lost  boy  was  safe,  and  while  Mars  ate  his 
bread  and  milk  with  heroic  relish,  a  little  slim 
night-gowned  figure  came  down-stairs  laughing 
with  joy.  It  was  Jane,  who  said  softly,  "  oh, 
Marsie's  back !  " 

His  supper  was  finished  amid  questions  from 
the  collected  flock  of  children.  Mrs.  Lawrence 
sat  by  in  a  sad  silence,  until  he  had  drained  the 
last  drop  from  his  spoon,  and  then  she  rose  to  go 
with  him  up-stairs.  His  offence  had  been  too 
serious  to  b&  passed  by  with  only  a  welcome, 
and  a  tired  "  I'm  sorry." 

She  bathed  him,  got  him  clean  and  sweet  for 
bed,  and  then  knelt  by  him  for  his  prayer.  Be- 
fore he  began,  she  said  : 

"  I  want  to  talk  a  little  with  you  first,  my 
child.  I  hope  you  will  remember  the  next  time 
you  get  angry,  how  much  grief  and  trouble  it 
costs  everybody.  Will  you  try  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  mamma,  I  surely  will." 

"  But  that  is  not  all,  Mars,"  she  went  on. 
"  It  is  very  easy  to  promise,  but  that  is  the  small- 
est part  of  obedience.  I  know  you  are  very 
tired  and  need  to  rest,  but  vou  must  listen  to 


Mars's  Adventure.  63 

mother  first.  I  want  you  to  realize  how  wicked 
it  is  to  get  so  angry,  and  how  dreadful  the  re- 
sults are.  Before  you  go  to  sleep,  think  it  over 
in  your  little  mind,  and  besides  your  prayer 
which  you  say  every  night,  I  want  you  to  make 
a  special  one  to  God  that  He  will  forgive  you." 

Mars,  somehow,  could  hardly  bear  the  sound 
of  his  mother's  voice.  It  had  never  seemed  so 
kind,  but  if  she  would  only  scold  him,  or  be 
severe,  he  felt  he  could  be  braver. 

He  made  a  pitiful  little  prayer,  all  his  own, 
and  gave  his  mother  an  extra  hug  before  he 
crept  into  bed.  There  he  wet  his  pillow  with 
such  tears  as  he  would  have  been  ashamed  to 
have  Don  see,  and  he  did  not  readily  fall  asleep, 
tired  as  he  was. 

Aunt  Ann,  upon  the  wanderer's  return,  had 
said  that  she  thought  he  ought  to  be  severely 
whipped  —  nothing  else  could  break  his  violent 
spirit.  Mrs.  Lawrence  merely  said  : 

"  If  you  feel  so,  sister,  you  may  do  it." 

And  of  course  there  was  no  whipping.  She 
was  duly  told  of  his  shame  and  grief,  and  it  was 
with  difficulty  that  she  restrained  herself  from 


64  Heart's    Content. 

going  to  his  chamber  to  pity  and  comfort  him. 
So  much  for  what  was  savage  in  that  loving 
heart ! 

Next  morning  as  soon  as  he  was  dressed, 
Mars  hurried  to  his  mother. 

"  Oh,  mamma,  if  somebody  would  only  scold 
me,  I  shouldn't  be  half  so  wicked !  I'm  sure  it 
would  make  me  better." 

"  No,  dear,"  his  mother  replied,  "  what  is  to 
make  you  better  is  not  a  scolding,  but  the  feel- 
ing of  sorrow  in  your  heart  that  you  have  done 
wrong.  When  one  is  conscious  of  wrong-doing, 
that  is  the  first  step  toward  repentance.  And 
when  one  truly  repents,  then  he  has  begun  to  be 
better." 

"  Well,  mamma,"  he  replied,  "  try  me  now  and 
watch  me,  and  see  if  you  don't  think  I  am  sorry. 
I  know  E  am." 

Mrs.  Lawrence  felt  sure  that  Mars  expressed 
his  true  feeling  to  her,  a  thing  his  native  obsti- 
nacy and  boyish  wilfulness  were  not  likely  to 
permit  him  to  do  to  others.  She  was  content 
with  the  inner  and  real  regret  which  he  mani- 
fested to  her,  and  did  not  require  any  public  ex- 
pression of  it. 


Mars's  Adventure.  65 

She  thought  it  better  not  to  run  the  risk  of 
counteracting  the  good  gained  by  any  exaction, 
which,  in  humiliating  him,  might  drive  him  to 
further  anger.  By  trusting  him,  she  hoped  to 
make  him  feel  that  he  could  be  good  when  he 
tried. 


CHAPTER  V. 

A  DAY  OP  DISTKESSES. 

"  Knowledge  never  learned  at  school, 
Of  the  black  wasp's  cunning  way, 
Mason  of  his  walls  of  clay, 
And  the  architectural  pleas, 
Of  grey  hornet  artisans." 

AFTER  Mars's  escapade  he  was  looked  upon 
with  great  superciliousness  by  the  rest  as  a 
very  bad  boy  ;  Don  only  having  the  sense  to  be 
rather  more  careful  than  usual  not  to  offend  or 
irritate  him ;  for  Don  had  a  great  admiration  in 
his  heart  for  what  he  called  his  little  brother's 
"  pluck." 

Still  a  measure  of  antagonism  must  be  kept 
up  in  order  to  maintain  the  proper  relations  be- 
tween them.     This  was  good-natured  on  Don's 
66 


A  Day  of  Distresses.  67 

part  very  nearly  always ;  but  that  did  not  hin- 
der it  being  a  spark  to  the  powder  of  Mars's 
temper,  and  no  day  could  pass  without  more  or 
less  explosions. 

Yet  with  all  this,  Don  kept  a  watchful  eye 
upon  such  other  boys  as  seemed  likely  to  impose- 
in  any  way  upon  Mars,  and  more  than  once  he 
interfered  where  hurt  seemed  to  threaten  him. 
Mars  could  fight  his  own  battles  as  long  as  his 
strength  held  out,  but  he  had  no  discretion. 

He  would  attack  a  big  boy  without  the  least 
hesitancy  —  indeed  he  never  cared  to  fight  with 
any  but  big  boys.  He  was  a  generous  foe,  after 
he  had  punished  his  assailant  or  offender  as 
much  as  he  wanted  to,  and  forgot  all  malice  or 
wounds  at  once. 

He  felt  very  much  ashamed  of  his  running 
awa}T,  but  he  did  not  like  to  own  it.  If  any 
questions  were  asked,  he  answered  boldly,  as  if 
rather  proud  of  it ;  but  that  was  merely  to  cover 
a  real  regret  and  repentance. 

Jane  alone  never  teased  him.  Indeed,  timid 
as  she  was,  she  would  have  gone  with  him  in  an 
instant  if  he  had  advised  it ;  so  loyal  was  she  in 


68  Heart's  Content. 

the  belief  that  Mars  was  always  in  the  right,  and 
could  never  do  wrong. 

She  was  Mars's  comfort  in  disgrace,  and  in 
return  was  made  the  possessor  of  all  his  cast-off 
playthings.  When  he  was  thoroughly  tired  of  a 
toy,  or  of  one  of  the  productions  of  his  ingenious 
jack-knife,  he  gave  it  to  her  with  great  magna- 
nimity. 

Meanwhile,  as  a  matter  of  course,  the  baby 
grew,  and  was  now  an  indispensable  part  of  the 
household.  She  was  called  Charlotte  for  her 
mother,  and  June  was  her  middle  name,  at 
Mars's  request,  seconded  warmly  by  Jane. 
Charlotte,  however,  was  too  long  for  ordinary 
use.  And  so,  because  she  had  such  little  feet  — 
such  very  little  ones  —  they  grew  to  call  her 
Totty. 

She  was  the  brightest  baby  in  the  world,  and 
liked  nothing  better  than  to  be  played  with,  and 
the  noisier  the  play,  the  more  delighted  she 
seemed. 

Jane's  motherly  passion  was  to  "hold"  this 
baby.  It  was  her  greatest  reward.  She  did  not 
even  like  to  go  to  school  any  more,  because  she 
had  to  leave  her.  It  was  her  fashion  to  sit  in 


A  Day  of  Distresses.  69 

her  little  rocking-chair,  and  to  get  her  lap  all 
ready,  and  when  the  baby  was  placed  in  her 
arms,  newly-washed  and  as  sweet  as  a  rose,  she 
could  not  kiss  her  enough,  or  be  too  tender  of 
her.  She  was  so  thoroughly  to  be  trusted  that 
the  privilege  was  often  granted  her. 

Yet  with  all  her  love  and  care,  something  hap- 
pened one  morning  that  she  did  not  soon  forget. 

"  Mayn't  I  hold  Totty  a  little  while  before  I 
go  to  school  ? "  she  coaxed,  as  she  was  sure  to 
do  day  after  day,  as  she  watched  mamma  give 
the  pretty  bath. 

"  Ah,  but  she  must  sleep  a  little  first,"  said 
mamma. 

"  But  if  she  sleeps  I  shall  be  late,"  sighed 
Jane,  in  a  despair  so  genuine  that  it  was  comic. 

"Well,  then,  for  a  few  minutes,"  consented 
mamma.  "Hold  her  carefully,  little  mother," 
she  cautioned,  as  she  placed  her  in  her  arms. 

Then  Trudge  got  down  upon  the  floor  to 
search  for  the  cunning  feet  under  the  long 
skirts,  and  there  was  great  cooing  and  twitter- 
ing over  it  all ;  when  in  rushed  Nanny,  with 
great  exclamations,  holding  a  helpless  young 
robin  in  her  hand. 


70  Heart's  Content. 

It  had  fallen  from  an  overcrowded  nest,  and 
was  too  young  to  fly.  Its  little  heart  panted 
and  throbbed  under  the  half-grown  feathers,  and 
it  made  pitiful  efforts  to  get  away. 

This  was  a  treasure.  Mars  was  in  her  wake 
with  eager  plans  for  a  cage.  "  I  can  build  it 
with  wires,  he  cried,  "  and  we  can  keep  it  for- 
ever and  ever ! " 

How  it  happened  nobody  ever  knew,  but  there 
came  a  sudden  bump,  and  a  wail,  and  to  the 
consternation  of  all,  Jane  had  dropped  the  baby  ! 

Such  an  unheard-of  thing  it  was  for  Jane  to 
be  heedless ;  she  who  was  the  only  one,  except 
Don,  of  the  children  entrusted  with  the  precious 
charge  ! 

Mamma  flew  to  pick  up  the  baby,  robin  and 
cage  were  forgotten,  and  pity  fell  plentifully 
from  all  for  the  bruised  Totty. 

Nobody  thought  to  pity  Jane,  who  sat  pale 
and  with  quivering  lip.  Only  Aunt  Ann,  who 
knew  that  hers  was  the  worst  hurt,  tried  to 
make  light  of  it  with  her,  "  Never  mind,  now  j 
be  a  good  girl  and  don't  cry  !  " 

Jane  crept  softly  out  into  the  kitchen  where 
her  cat  lay  in  a  comfortable  coil  upon  the  settle, 


A  Day  of  Distresses.  71 

fast  asleep.  She  buried  her  face  in  his  \\arm 
fur,  and  sobbed  as  if  her  heart  was  broken.  She 
would  never  ask  to  hold  Totty  again,  never. 
Perhaps  she  had  killed  her  —  who  could  tell? 
Sob  after  sob  shook  her  little  body.  Meanwhile 
old  Tom  purred  at  the  pleasant  disturbance. 

Aunt  Ann  came  bustling  out : 

"Oh,  dear  child,  Totty  isn't  hurt.  Never 
mind,  never  mind  !  Come  now,  you  must  get 
ready  for  school.  You  shall  hold  Totty  when- 
ever you  like  —  only  don't  cry  !  It  was  a  mis- 
take —  now,  run  and  wash  off  your  tears  ! '' 

And  Jane  was  glad  to  go  out  so  that  she  could 
dry  her  eyes  and  hush  her  sobbing  by  herself. 

Marsie  went  to   work   at  his   cage   with   all 
energy ;  but  Nanny,  full  of  changing  impulses, 
tiring  quickly  of  the  care  of  her  great  discovery, 
carried  it  out  and  put  it  in  the  soft  gras's,  where' 
it  disappeared  and  was  never  seen  again. 

Jane  had  cried  so  much  that  she  did  not  go 
to  school  at  all  that  day ;  nor  would  she  take 
Totty  again,  though  urged  to  do  so.  She  was 
glad,  therefore,  when  after  a  long  quiet  dajr  to 
herself,  it  at  last  came  four  o'clock,  and  she 
heard  Marsie  shouting  down  the  walk  on  his 


72  Heart's  Content. 

way  home,  and  saw  Nanny  scampering,  bare- 
headed, after  him,  with  Trudge  and  her  primer 
in  the  distance. 

She  ran  to  the  gate  to  meet  them,  and  skipped 
along  very  gleefully  in  answer  to  Nanny's  call 
to  come  and  play  in  the  barn. 

This  was  a  favorite  place.  The  sweet,  newly- 
dried  clover  was  piled  to  the  roof,  and  sloped 
from  there  down  to  a  lower  mow,  which  in  turn 
sloped  to  the  floor. 

The  chief  sport  was  to  climb  around  at  the 
side,  in  a  winding  fashion,  until  the  top  was 
reached ;  jump  from  that,  full  into  the  air,  to  the 
lower  mow,  and  from  the  lower  mow  to  slide 
down  to  the  floor. 

It  was  hard  work,  but  was  full  of  a  hazardous 
sort  of  fun.  In  it  they  always  grew  breathless 
with  scrambling  and  laughter. 

Nanny  was  always  ahead  —  the  strongest  to 
climb  up  the  slippery  stair,  and  the  most  daring 
in  her  leaps  from  the  highest  loft. 

Little  Jane  was  passed  and  repassed,  however 
hard  she  tried  to  .keep  up ;  and  even  Trudge, 
with  her  rotund  awkwardness,  distanced  her  ,* 


A  Day  of  Distresses.  73 

for  her  side  ached,  and  her  arms  and  legs  would 
continually  give  out. 

Nanny  was  surely  made  of  gutta-percha,  and 
Trudge  was  a  ball,  that  did  all  her  exercise  in 
rolling ;  but  Jane  was  neither,  and  gave  out 
over  and  over  again. 

Nanny  had  a  good-natured  contempt  for  her 
weaker  sister,  as  the  strong  are  apt  to  have  for 
those  who  cannot  endure  equally  with  them- 
selves. 

"  Does  your  side  ache,  Jane  ?  "she  asked,  with 
mock  concern. 

"Yes,"  gasped  Jane. 

"Then  let  it  ache,"  replied  Nanny,  rather 
heartlessly,  stretching  herself  at  full  length 
on  the  sweet  hay. 

Presently  she  got  up,  and  began  again  to 
climb  to  the  very  top  of  the  upper  mow.  It 
was  heavy  and  hot  work,  and  her  progress  was 
slow. 

When  almost  to  the  summit,  she  noticed  a 
large  gray  bunch,  up  in  the  corner  under  the 
roof.  It  was  cone-shaped  and  smooth,  and  she 
knew  it  was  a  wasp  nest.  This  was  something 
new,  and  she  was  seized  with  a  desire  to  get  at  it, 


74  Heart's  Content. 

She  wanted  to  take  it  clown  to  put  into  her 
play-house  ;  but  dared  not  touch  it  with  her 
hands. 

"Jane!  Trudge!"  she  called,  "I've  found  a 
nest!" 

This  at  once  put  spirit  into  the  tired  Trudge, 
who  straightway  sprang  up  and  began  to  climb 
after  Nanny. 

"  Oh,  Trudge,  fetch  me  a  long  stick  !  "  called 
Nanny  from  her  perch;  "I  can  get  the  nest  to 
take  home." 

Jane  grew  curious,  and  crawled  around  where 
she  could  see,  and  then  she  beheld  her  horror 
of  horrors  — _a  wasp  nest ! 

"  Oh,  don't !  "  she  began  to  plead ;  "  Nanny, 
they'll  bite  you  !  " 

"No,  they  won't  —  they've  all  got  the  side- 
ache,"  Nanny  called  back,  laughing  at  Jane's 
silly  fears.  Meanwhile  Trudge  had  got  a  stick, 
and  it  was  in  Nanny's  hands. 

She  poked  the  gray  bunch  —  carefully  at  first, 
hardly  touching  it  —  but  at  last  with  a  furious 
punch  that  did  all  the  mischief  Jane  had  feared. 
Out  rushed  a  swarm  of  wasps,  assailing  Nanny, 
who  made  a  wild  leap  into  the  air,  striking  the 


A  Day  of  Distresses.  75 

lower  mow,  and  rolling  from  there  to  the  floor. 
The  vengeful  little  creatures  were  not  content 
with  her,  but  flew  at  Trudge  also,  and  one  found 
Jane,  and  to  her  terror,  stung  her  hand. 

Nanny  began  howling,  and  Trudge  joined  the 
concert. 

All  ran  to  the  house,  and  poor  Nanny's  arms 
and  neck  were  " bitten"  indeed.  But  worst  of 
all,  one  or  two  crawled  under  the  band  of  her 
dress  down  upon  her  shoulders,  and  it  would 
have  been  hard  to  count  the  poultices  she 
needed. 

"  Oh,"  she  sobbed,  "I  didn't  hurt  one.  I  only 
poked  it ! "  And  she  was  told  it  was  safer 
always  not  to  "  poke  "  a  wasp-nest. 

Jane  could  not  help  thinking  secretly  to  herself 
that  it  might  all  be  a  punishment  on  Nanny  for 
making  fun  of  her  side-ache.  How  she  ac- 
counted for  the  one  sting  she  had  herself  re- 
ceived, is  not  known,  but  probably  a  blister  upon 
her  hand  and  one  upon  Nanny's  were  quite  dif- 
ferent affairs  as  matters  of  retribution. 

This  day  must  have  been  foredoomed  as  one 
of  tragedies. 

Don  had  come  home  a  little  later   than  the 


76  Heart's   Content. 

rest;  and  finding  the  lower  part  of  the  house 
silent,  had  gone  up-stairs  to  see  if  he  could  dis- 
cover their  whereabouts. 

But  that,  too,  was  still  —  only  the  white  cur- 
tains rustled  softly  in  and  out  from  the  open  win- 
dows, in  the  indolent  breeze. 

The  play-room  was  in  order,  and  no  sign  of  its 
busy  owners  could  be  seen,  except  the  neatly- 
ranged  boxes  of  toys,  and  now  and  then  a  grave 
doll  perched  upright  in  some  comfortable  place. 
Aunt  Ann  was  very  troublesome  on  the  question 
of  order  and  neatness  among  the  playthings. 

Evidently  the  children  had  not  been  up-stairs 
since  morning,  and  must  be  elsewhere  at  play. 
Then  the  spirit  of  mischief,  which  dwells  no- 
where in  such  vigor  and  activity  as  in  a  twelve- 
j^ear-old  boy's  heart,  inspired  Don.  He  forgot 
all  schemes  of  his  own,  and  all  the  dignity  de- 
pendent upon  him  as  the  oldest,  and  a  student  of 
Latin,  and  began  to  rummage. 

Jane's  corner  was  more  plentifully  stocked 
with  choice  things  than  any  other.  Her  family 
of  dolls  was  the  largest,  and  ranged  from  a  lovely 
Christmas  creature,  with  flaxen  ringlets  and 


A   Day  ^f  Distresses.  77 

black  eyes,  down  to  a  huge  rag-baby,  dilapidated 
and  limp  at  the  joints,  and  with  no  merit  in  the 
world  except  her  weight,  which  was  quite  that 
of  a  real  baby. 

Don  collected  the  miscellaneous  families.  He 
found  no  less  than  thirteen  treasures,  in  all  stages 
of  dress  and  undress. 

He  had  a  grim  smile  on  his  face,  and  went  to 
work  with  an  energy  worthy  a  better  cause. 

In  the  play-room  the  stove,  which  had  a  long 
pipe  extending  through  another  room  into  the 
chimney,  was  never  taken  down  in  summer,  but 
was  left  in  its  place  to  be  used  on  rainy  and  chill 
days. 

Don  drew  from  his  pockets  a  supply  of  strings ; 
and  one  by  one  he  hung  the  dolls  by  their  necks 
to  this  stove  pipe  —  the  largest  first,  and  from 
that  in  a  ghastly  grade  down  to  the  smallest,  in 
her  full  ball-dress  of  pink  silk  and  lace. 

It  took  him  a  full  half  hour  to  do  this,  and  he 
was  well  heated  and  tired  ;  but  all  the  time  the 
most  intense  satisfaction  beamed  upon  his  face. 
And  when  the  row  was  completed,  he  stood  back 
and  scanned  it  with  exultation.  The  breeze 


78  .       Heart's  Content. 

swung  them  slowly  to  and  fro,  and  they  looked 
like  the  work  of  some  pigmy  vigilance  com- 
mittee. 

After  fully  enjoying  the  sight,  Don  was  just 
about  to  go  down-stairs,  when  he  heard  Nanny's 
howls.  Of  course  he  ran  with  all  haste  to  see 
what  was  the  matter,  and  helped  to  dress  the 
wounds.  In  that  way  the  hanging  passed  utterly 
out  of  his  mind  for  the  time  being. 

The  confusion  of  the  wasp  affair  did  not  fully 
subside  until  after  the  tired  children  had  had 
their  suppers ;  and  then  Jane  stole  off  up-stairs 
for  a  little  communion  with  her  family.  She 
was  very  fond  of  solitary  play  with  her  dolls ; 
for  then  she  could  lavish  all  the  tenderness  she 
wished  upon  them,  without  fear  of  Nanny's  laugh 
or  of  Mars's  sneer. 

What  a  dreadful  sight  met  her  eyes !  She  was 
stricken  dumb.  She  could  only  stand  and  gaze 
at  the  disgraceful  spectacle  of  Neida,  and  Rose, 
and  Juliet,  and  the  rest,  with  bits  of  twine  about 
their  necks,  swa}Ting  about  helplessly  in  the 
evening  wind. 

Never  in  all  her  life  before  had  she  felt  such 
an  overwhelming  indignation.  Her  heart  fairly 


A  Day  of  Distresses.  79 

stopped.  She  could  neither  speak  nor  cry ;  she 
only  stamped  her  little  foot. 

No  one  had  ever  given  her  credit  for  spirit 
enough  to  resent  an  injury;  but  this  event 
proved  that  she  had  it,  for  Mars  himself  could 
not  have  better  risen  to  the  occasion.  It  was 
such  a  great  rage  for  such  a  small  body. 

"  Oh,  oh !  "  she  moaned,  "  what  can  I  do  ?  " 

Down-stairs  she  ran  to  Mars,  out  of  breath, 
arid  furious.  He  was  always  her  first  refuge. 
She  could  scarcely  tell  him,  and  when  finally  she 
did  make  him  understand  that  all  her  dolls  were 
hung  to  the  stove-pipe,  he,  for  once,  forgot  to 
soothe  her  and  sympathize  with  her,  but  gave  an 
exulting  whoop,  and  skipped  off  to  see  the 
"lark." 

The  boy  in  him  was  stronger  than  the  brother, 
and  he  shrieked  with  merriment  as  he  saw  the 
array,  and  secretly  wished  that  he  had  been  the 
one  to  think  of  it  first. 

At  this  Jane's  rage  was  turned  to  grief,  and 
she  burst  into  dreadful  crying.  She  had  done 
little  but  cry  that  day,  and  this  was  the  last 
straw  to  her  endurance.  Indeed,  she  was  sick 
with  grief,  and  fit  only  to  be  put  to  bed. 


80  Heart's  Content. 

Don  was  thoroughly  frightened  when  he  saw 
how  terribly  she  took  his  prank  to  heart ;  and 
stole  up-stairs  in  the  dark,  and  cut  each  doll 
from  its  noose,  and  put  it  back  respectfully  into 
its  place,  and  then  sought  Jane  to  say  : 

"  They're  all  right  now,  Jenny.  I  only  meant 
to  give  them  an  airing,  and  I  didn't  think  you'd 
feel  so  bad  about  it.  If  you  won't  cry  any  more, 
I'll  make  a  sled  for  Rosy  next  winter." 

Jane  allowed  herself  to  be  appeased  ;  and  the 
subject  was  not  referred  to  again  in  her  presence. 
But  behind  her  back  the  rest  lifted  their  eye- 
brows and  smiled  to  each  other  with  amusement 
at  this  new  departure  in  temper,  and  Don  said, 
"  whew  !  how  mad  Jane  got  I  " 


CHAPTER   VI. 

THE  NAUGHTY  TRICK. 

"  She  has  thrown  her  bonnet  by. 
And  her  feet  she  has  been  dipping 

In  the  shallow  water's  flow  ; 

Now  she  holds  them  nakedly, 
In  her  hands  all  sleek  and  dripping, 

While  she  rocketh  to  and  fro." 

NEXT  day,  Jane,  having  no  grief  to  hinder, 
went  with  the  rest  to  school. 
She  had  one  source  of  trouble  in  school,  and 
that  was  her  sensitiveness   about  Nanny,  who, 
though  bright  and  ready,  had,  alas,  very  little 
knowledge  of  her  lessons  as  a  general   thing. 
Against  her  name  on  the  teacher's  roll  was  an 
apalling  array  of  black  marks  —  attendance,  de- 
portment, and  the   various   studies   all    looked 
alike  in  that  respect.    Scarcely  any  girl  in  school 
Si 


82  Heart's  Content. 

had  such  a  crowd  of  shadows  on  her  record ;  and 
yet,  there  was  scarcely  a  girl  to  whom  a  "  black 
mark  "  gave  such  grief  as  to  Nanny. 

One  reason,  perhaps,  that  her  showing  was  so 
bacl,  was  that  each  girl  was  required  to  give  in 
her  own  standing  at  the  close  of  each  day ;  and 
Nanny  never  shirked  a  whisper,  nor  a  missed 
lesson.  Days  when  she  had  more  than  usual  to 
answer  for,  she  might  be  seen  starting  for  home 
with  her  little  pug  nose  all  swelled  with  crying. 
She  always  repented ;  but  still  always  forgot  to 
reform. 

And  then  the  contrast  between  her  report  and 
Jane's,  who  hadn't  an  atom  of  mischief  in  her, 
was  a  very  trying  one.  Jane  could  never  run 
off  in  a  bareheaded  chase  over  the  hills  at  noon, 
because  of  that  pain  in  her  side  when  she  ran ; 
and  so  she  was  never  tardy.  Jane  was  shy  and 
reserved,  and  not  such  a  favorite  as  Nanny ;  and 
so  her  temptations  were  fewer,  and,  of  course, 
her  lessons  were  better  learned. 

But  Jane  always  shared  in  the  'grief  over 
Nanny's  disgraces ;  and  when,  after  reports, 
Nanny's  little  black-braided  head  dropped  sud- 
denly and  desperately  upon  her  arm  on  the  desk, 


The   Naughty  Trick.  83 

Jane's  little  black-braided  head  was  sure  to  fol- 
low fashion.  Nanny  should  not  be  left  to  cry- 
alone  ! 

But  if  her  pug  nose  cooled  off  from  its  hot 
bath  of  tears  before  she  was  half  way  home,  it 
was  not  so  with  Jane's.  You  would  have 
thought  Jane  the  culprit,  and  Nanny  merely  her 
careless  sympathizer. 

Indeed,  Jane's  clean,  fair  credit  marks  were  a 
source  of  nearly  as  much  pain  to  her  as  Nanny's 
black  ones.  She  much  preferred  that  Nanny 
should  have  the  best  of  everything,  if  only  she 
could  have  had  it  so.  She  sometimes  resolved 
in  her  mild  little  soul  to  do  something  dreadful 
—  much  more  unruly  and  dreadful  than  Nanny 
ever  thought  of  doing ;  but  she  did  not  know 
how.  Nanny  could  be  in  hot  water  all  day  long, 
•without  any  effort ;  but  with  all  the  racking  of 
her  little  brain,  Jane  could  not  devise  a  single 
misdemeanor. 

But  in  the  whole  school  Nanny's  was  the 
favorite  desk  to  pupils  and  teachers  alike.  It 
was  hard  for  any  one  to  frown  when,  instead  of 
studying,  Nanny's  roving  eyes  found  something 
to  laugh  at.  Such  a  laugh  as  it  was  ! 


84  Heart's    Content. 

Teeth  like  two  white  regular  rows  of  corn  on 
a  cob  ;  cheeks  of  the  sound  round  apple  kind, 
that  one  would  almost  wish  to  bite ;  and  eyes 
that  sparkled  with  full  child  health  and  happi- 
ness. She  never  meant  to  laugh,  never  sought 
to  be  diverted  from  duty  ;  but  a  funny  picture 
on  a  slate,  or  a  face  made  up  into  ugly  shapes 
behind  a  book,  was  enough  to  start  every  dim- 
ple, and  to  reveal  every  tooth. 

I  am  sure  her  black  marks  were  given  her 
more  because,  from  her  own  open  confessions, 
they  could  not  be  avoided,  than  because  any  one 
supposed  she  deserved  so  many. 

But  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  this  day  Nanny 
was  guilty  of  a  naughty  trick.  Among  the 
pupils  —  the  school  was  a  "  select  "  one  —  was  a 
girl  who  did  not  really  belong  there.  She  was 
like  a  crow  among  a  flock  of  canaries.  The 
more  pretentious  of  the  misses  turned  up  their 
noses  openly  at  her ;  and  no  one  sought  her 
friendship,  or  phiyed  with  her,  or  studied  with 
her.  She  seemed  inoffensive  and  harmless 
enough,  except  that  she  was  given  to  tale-bear- 
ing ;  and  this,  of  course,  made  her  enemies  at 
once. 


The  Naughty  Trick.  85 

She  was  scoffed  at  and  berated;  but  this  only 
made  her  more  persistent.  None  of  the  girls 
could  hope  to  escape  her  sly  watchfulness  ;  and 
if  any  secret  sport  was  on  foot,  she  was  sure  to 
discover  who  the  leaders  were,  and  to  tell  of  it. 
Her  name  was  Maggie  Toole.  The  children 
scornfully  shortened  it  to  "  Mag,"  and  always 
spoke  of  it  with  broad  harsh  emphasis,  as  if  to 
convey  the  dislike  they  felt  for  her. 

"  Mag  Toole  "  was  often  made  to  rhyme  with 
an  ignominious  word;  and  "Mag  Toole  did  it," 
was  sure  to  be  the  verdict,  if  anything  offensive 
was  done. 

It  was  the  noon  hour,  and  nearly  all  the 
misses  brought  lunches  and  ate  them  out 
under  the  trees,  or  under  shelter  of  the  great 
piaz/a.  Half  a  score  of  the  girls  were  chatter- 
ing and  nibbling  their  sandwiches,  when  some 
one  said: 

"  I'm  so  sick  of  playing  forever  under  these 
same  trees.  Let's  go  down  to  the  river !  " 

The  river  ran  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  upon 
which  the  "  seminary "  stood ;  but  they  had 
been  forbidden  to  go  there.  It  was  too  far,  for 
one  reason ;  and  for  another  they  were  obliged 


86  Heart's   Content. 

to  cross  the  railroad  track  to  reach  it ;  and  that 
was  thought  dangerous. 

But  no  sooner  was  it  proposed,  than  all  seemed 
possessed  with  the  spirit  of  disobedience.  They 
despatched  their  lunches  in  hot  haste,  and  away 
they  secretly  fled.  The  noon  hour  was  prover- 
bial for  being  the  shortest  one  in  the  six. 

Going  down  the  hill  was  easy  enough.  They 
plunged,  and  raced,  arid  tumbled  and  shouted, 
and  withal  got  very  heated  before  they  reached 
the  river-bank. 

The  water  gurgled  along  with  a  cool  voice, 
and  glistened  on  the  clean  stones,  and  swept 
into  tiny  whirlpools,  and  bathed  the  drooping 
branches  of  the  shore  willows.  It  was  very 
tempting  and  beautiful. 

They  dipped  water  into  their  hands  and 
drank ;  they  bathed  their  hot  faces  and  arms ; 
they  skipped  small  stones,  and  splashed  larger 
ones ;  they  all  talked  at  once,  and  were  quite 
excited  with  their  adventure. 

"  Oh,  let's  wade  !  "  shouted  Nanny. 

No  sooner  was  this  thought  of,  than  off  came 
shoes  and  stockings.  And  in  they  went,  with 
shrieks  of  delight  at  the  coolness,  and  shrieks  of 


The  Naughty  Trick.  87 

remonstrance  at  the  stones  that  hurt  their 
tender,  bare  feet. 

Nanny  loved  the  water  like  a  fish.  She 
ventured  further  and  enjoyed  it  more  than 
any  one  else.  Jane,  for  a  wonder,  was  one  of 
the  number,  persuaded  to  it  quite  unawares ; 
but  she  was  shrinking,  and  not  altogether  happy. 
The  disobedience  was  a  burden  on  her  con- 
science, and  the  wild  race  down  the  hill  had 
tired  her  very  much. 

"  Oh,  see  where  I  am ! "  screamed  Nanny, 
quite  far  out  from  shore,  on  a  shoal  of  sand. 
"  Oh !  Jane,  it's  easy.  Come  out  here." 

"  Nanny,  Nanny,"  pleaded  Jane,  "  you'll 
drown !  "  as  she  saw  Nanny's  little  white  legs 
waver  and  crinkle  as  the  water  flowed  round 
them. 

"  No,  I  won't,"  cried  back  the  fearless,  easy 
voice.  "  It's  soft  here,  and  don't  hurt  my  feet." 

Jane  had  no  courage.  She  was  terrified  and 
Jrembling ;  but  she  was  desperate  at  Nanny's 
danger. 

And  so,  without  any  caution  or  prudence, 
she  made  a  rapid  rush  to  gain  the  shoal  through 
the  swift  water;  and  gained  it,  only  to  have 


88  Heart's  Content. 

both  feet  slip  suddenly  from  under  her,  and  to 
find  herself  seated  to  the  waist  in  water  a  half 
dozen  feet  from  shore. 

Back  went  Nanny's  merry  head,  as  both 
hands  let  go  the  skirts  she  had  so  carefully  kept 
dry,  so  that  they  might  clap  together,  while 
she  laughed  a  long,  delighted  laugh,  not  unlike 
the  water  itself  in  music. 

In  an  instant,  however,  she  saw  the  pitiful 
fright  in  little  Jane's  face ;  and  taking  her  under 
the  arms,  helped  her  to  stand ;  and  from  that 
to  reach  the  shore. 

The  water  may  have  been,  at  most,  ten  inches 
deep ;  but  Jane  thought  of  the  picture  in  her 
Sunday-school  book — of  Pharaoh's  host  swal- 
lowed up  in  the  Red  Sea ;  and  her  adventure 
assumed  the  full  magnitude  of  that  in  her  eyes. 
She  was  so  bewildered  at  finding  herself  stand- 
ing on  dry  land,  unhurt,  though  dripping,  that 
she  began  to  cry  aloud  with  a  plaintive  voice. 

Nanny  thought  it  such  fun,  that  she  lay  on 
the  bank  and  laughed  till  the  tears  came.  How- 
ever, when  she  found  that  Jane's  was  genuine 
weeping  and  wailing,  she  aroused  to  the  knowl- 
edge that  they  were  both  very  wet ;  and  that 


The  Naughty  Trick.  89 

Jane  trickled  from  her  waist  downward,  like 
old  dog  Zeus  after  a  swim.  So  she  began  to 
wring  her  in  places ;  and  to  grow  grave  as  she 
realized  that  wringing  did  n'ot  seem  to  dry 
her  off. 

"  Oh-o-o-o !  "  moaned  Jane,  in  a  long  treble 
howl.  "  Oh-o-o-o  ! " 

"Don't  cry,"  reassured  Nanny,  "we'll  dry 
you  in  the  sun." 

But  there  was  no  comfort  for  the  dripping 
child.  "  School  —  home  —  black-marks,"  rushed 
in  reproachful  confusion  upon  her  mind.  She 
had  run  away  and  —  oh  dear ! 

Nanny  found  it  was  hopeless.  Drizzle  here, 
and  trickle  there,  came  the  water  out  of  Jane's 
clothing.  Nanny,  too,  had  a  Bible  thought. 
Her  last  Sunday's  lesson  had  been  about  Moses 
smiting  the  rock,  and  the  water  gushing  forth. 
She  thought  maybe  Jane  would  continue  to  run 
like  that ;  and  despair  swept  over  her. 

"Oh,  don't  cry!"  she  begged.  "Try  to 
wring  it  out !  Girls,  try  to  wring  her  out ! " 
to  the  awed,  bare-legged  group  that  had  gath- 
ered about  them. 

They  began  with  a  will.     Jane's  fresh  cam- 


90  Heart's  Content. 

brie  was  soon  a  distorted,  wrinkled  mass  —  with 
no  promise,  however,  of  ever  becoming  dry. 

Finally,  with  a  shock  to  all  concerned,  some 
one  suggested  that  it  must  be  "  school-time." 

Then  began  a  pulling  of  stockings  on  to 
damp,  sandy  and  bruised  feet. 

Before  many  minutes  all  were  ready  after  a 
dishevelled  fashion,  except  Nanny  and  Jane. 

"We  shall  have  to  go  home,"  said  Nanny. 
At  this,  Jane  broke  out  afresh ;  and  Nanny, 
herself  came  very  near,  for  once,  joining  in 
the  clamor.  But  so  they  decided  it.  They 
would  go  directly  home. 

Not  verjr  like  the  high  glee  of  their  bounding 
down  an  hour  before,  toiled  back  the  tired 
children  up  the  hill,  towards  unlearned  lessons 
and  possible  punishment. 

It  was  hot  work.  They  had  no  mirth  to 
beguile  them.  Nanny  was  leading  her  little 
mussed-up,  sobbing  sister,  herself  in  woful 
plight,  and  all  her  merriment  vanished.  Upon 
reaching  the  top  of  the  hill  they  filed  off 
towards  home,  while  the  rest  went,  like  doomed 
creatures  to  their  fate. 

Before  reaching  the  school-room  door,  how- 


The  Naughty  Trick.  91 

ever,  the  natural  instinct  to  shield  themselves 
came  to  their  relief,  and  they  hurriedly  agreed 
"not  to  tell."  They  were  not  very  late  —  not 
more  than  five  minutes  —  and  took  their  tardy 
marks  with  good  grace,  considering  themselves 
lucky  to  get  off  so  easy.  Nanny  and  Jane 
were  marked,  but  no  questions  asked  about 
them. 

The  next  morning,  before  school,  there  was  a 
buzz  of  suppressed  excitement.  Nanny  and 
Jane  were  there  in  spick-and-span  clean  dresses ; 
Jane  drooping  and  pale,  and  Nanny  melancholy, 
but  looking  very  much  like  a  ripe  apple.  The 
girls  of  the  truant  party  gathered  eagerly  round 
them,  with : 

"  Say,  we  didn't  tell !  "  "  Say,  nobody  knows 
it ;  and  all  we  got  was  a  tardy  mark  !  " 

Then  laughing  and  congratulations  and  ex- 
ultations followed. 

After  prayers,  and  just  as  study  was  about  to 
begin,  apple-faced  Nanny  —  now  a  little  pale, 
however  —  took  Jane's  limp  hand,  and  both 
went  to  the  teacher's  desk,  where,  before  a  word 
could  be  said,  Jane  fell  to  sobbing,  until  her 
body  shook  like  a  leaf  in  a  storm.  Nanny  trem- 


92  Heart's  Content. 

bled,  but  looked  with  straightforward  tearful 
eyes  into  the  teacher's  face,  as  she  handed  her  a 
note.  The  teacher  read : 

"  Dear  Madam :  —  My  little  girls,  Nanny  and 
Jane,  disobeyed  you  yesterday,  by  going  to  the 
river  without  your  knowledge.  Their  clothes 
were  wet,  and  they  were  obliged  to  come  home. 
They  are  very  sorry,  I  am  sure,  and  wish  to  ask 
your  forgiveness. 

"  Their  Sorrowful  Mother" 

The  teacher  was  much  beloved,  and  as  she  fin- 
ished, and  turned  her  gentle  reproachful  eyes 
upon  the  culprits,  it  was  almost  more  than 
Nanny's  heroism  could  endure.  Jane  saw  noth- 
ing, as  she  was  shedding  her  tears  into  her  two 
hands. 

"  Nanny,  I  am  surprised,"  began  madame. 

"  Jane  wasn't  to  blame,"  put  in  Nanny,  "  She 
never  did  it  before." 

"  Were  you  alone  ? "  asked  madame,  with 
perchance  a  remembrance  of  yesterday's  tardy 
ones  crossing  her  mind. 

Nanny  would  not  flinch ;  nor  yet  would  she 
tell.  Keeping  her  honest  eyes  full  upon  her 


The  Naughty  Trick.  93 

teacher,  she  hesitated,  and  then  finally  began  to 
beat  about  the  bush  a  little,  with,  "  Jane  and  I 
—  yesterday  noon  —  we  'ran  away." 

"  Yes,  I  understand,"  said  madame,  "  but 
were  there  not  others  with  you  ?  " 

"  I  can't  tell,"  said  Nanny,  with  decided  firm- 
ness. Then  added,  "  We  ask  your  pardon  — 
Jane  and  me." 

Just  then  a  hand  was  lifted  out  in  the  room  — 
not  only  lifted,  but  waved  in  an  imperative  man- 
ner, to  attract  attention.  It  was  Maggie  Toole's. 
The  teacher  nodded  that  she  might  speak. 

"There  were  lots  of  'em,"  she  began,  breath- 
less with  her  eagerness  to  tell.  "Kate  Gray, 
and  Mollie  Agnew,  and " 

"  That  will  do,"  interrupted  madame,  before 
the  list  could  be  finished. 

Nanny  fairly  glared  at  the  informant.  "  She 
always  tells  of  everybody,"  she  burst  out."  I 
wouldn't.  I  couldn't  be  so  mean  !  " 

Since  the  cat  was  out  of  the  bag,  there  seemed 
to  be  a  resolution  among  the  guilty  girls  to  make 
a  clean  sweep  of  it.  Each  of  the  ones  named 
rose  in  her  seat,  as  did  the  others,  in  a  strug- 
gling, reluctant  fashion. 


94  Hearts  Content. 

The  matter  was  thoroughly  sifted,  the  disobe- 
dient ones  reprimanded,  and  Jane  comforted ; 
for,  indeed,  her  little  heart  was  nearly  broken, 
and  she  was  unfit  for  stud}*-  all  day.  Nanny 
went  back  to  her  desk,  tempered  a  little  as  to 
merriment,  but  very  wroth  at  Maggie  Toole. 

I  have  said  that  Nanny  was  guilty  of  a 
naughty  trick.  I  did  not  then  refer  to  the  noon 
prank ;  but  to  this  which  grew  out  of  it,  and 
which  I  am  now  to  tell. 

There  was  general  indignation  among  the 
girls  over  this  last  uncalled-for  bit  of  tale-bear- 
ing; and  as  Maggie  turned  her  eyes  to  her 
school-mates'  faces  she  met  bitter  and  scornful 
looks,  and  ominous  shakings  of  the  head.  But 
she  was  a  dull  girl,  and  could  not  understand 
that  she  had  committed  a  breach  of  honor  ;  nor 
that  her  mates  were  justly  furious  over  it.  So 
she  only  smiled  back  in  a  sort  of  triumphant 
way,  as  if  she  enjoyed  their  anger,  and  thought 
herself  quite  a  heroine  to  have  aroused  it. 

The  morning  wore  on.  Little  study  could  be 
accomplished,  with  this  smouldering  feeling  grow- 
ing more  violent  the  more  it  was  repressed. 

At  last  Nanny  was  tapped  on  the  shoulder  by 


The   Naughty  Trick.  95 

the  girl  in  the  desk  behind  her,  and  a  paper  was 
stealthily  put  into  her  hands.  On  it  was  printed 
in  large  black  letters  "  TATTLE  TALE." 

A  movement  indicated  that  it  was  meant  for 
Maggie,  who  was  in  the  desk  just  in  front. 
Nanny's  eyes  twinkled.  She  understood  what 
was  wanted;  and,  when  unobserved  bymadame, 
reached  quietly  forward  and  pinned  it  on  to 
Maggie's  dress  behind. 

There  it  was,  in  full  view  of  all  who  sat 
back,  affording  them  the  liveliest  satisfaction. 
As  Nanny  contemplated  it,  a  sense  of  justice 
achieved,  softened  the  bitter  one  of  resentment 
that  had  kept  her  so  miserably  idle  all  the 
morning. 

The  paper  kept  its  place  for  the  rest  of  the 
forenoon,  and  was  seen  by  all  eyes  except 
madame's,  who  did  not  chance  to  get  a  glimpse 
of  Maggie's  back. 

However,  at  about  the  hour  for  dismissal, 
Maggie  crossed  the  room  for  some  purpose,  and 
madamo  saw  the  badge.  There  was  a  general 
murmur  of  pleasure  as  she  was  seen  to  discover 
it.  Indeed,  there  was  so  audible  a  laugh  that 


96  Heart's    Content. 

Maggie's  attention  was  drawn  by  it,  only  to  find 
herself  the  subject  of  it. 

She  became  instantly  confused  ;  which  so  in- 
creased the  satisfaction  of  all  concerned,  that  it 
was  with  difficulty  madame  could  restore  order. 
She  summoned  the  disgraced  girl  to  her  desk, 
and  unpinning  the  paper,  asked  whose  work  it 
was.  There  was  an  instant's  dead  silence. 

Nanny,  who  had  been  laughing  until  the  two 
rows  of  white  corn  were  more  than  usually  visi- 
ble, became  half  sober,  while  all  her  dimples 
lessened.  Then,  with  hand  up,  to  claim  mad- 
ame's  permission,  and  with  eyes  open  and  clear 
of  any  malice,  she  spoke  : 

"  I  did  it,  madame." 

"  Did  you  print  it  ?  " 

*'No,  ma'am." 

"Who  did?" 

"  I  don't  know." 

"Why  did  you  pin  it  there ?  " 

"  She  deserved  it ;  she  is  a  tattle-tale." 

Nanny's  mates  admired  her  wonderfully  ;  but 
as  she  was  not  a  bold  girl,  madame's  severe 
glance  brought  the  blood  to  her  cheeks.  The 


The  Naughty  Trick.  97 

flush  swept  up  to  her  forehead,  as  Maggie  began 
to  cry  uproariously. 

"  Would  you  like  any  of  your  schoolmates  to 
do  the  same  to  you  ?  "  was  the  next  question. 

"  No,  ma'am,"  was  the  tremulous  reply. 

"  Is  there  not  a  rule  we  call  the  Golden  Rule  ? 
Will  you  please  repeat  it,  Nanny  ?  " 

Nanny  glanced  at  Jane,  to  discover  her  state 
of  mind  ;  and  finding  that,  for  once,  she  was  not 
crying  in  shame  for  her,  she  plucked  up  courage 
and  repeated :  "  Do  unto  others  as  you  would 
that  they  should  do  unto  you." 

This  was  an  unexpected  turn  to  affairs.  What 
had  seemed  a  very  just  and  righteous  thing,  was 
shown  in  this  quiet  way,  to  be  both  unkind  and 
unchristian. 

Nanny  had  no  argument  with  which  to  sustain 
herself;  and  though  she  had  fortified  herself 
with,  "  she  deserved  it,"  that  seemed  now  but  a 
shabby  support,  since  it  had  no  weight  with 
madam  e. 

Madame,  who  had  watched  the  feeling  among 
the  pupils  all  the  morning,  now  went  on  to  coun- 
teract it,  as  far  as  she  could,  by  showing  that, 


98  Heart's   Content. 

however  great  may  have  been  Maggie's  fault  in 
tale-bearing,  it  was  no  reason  why  the  rest  should 
be  guilty  of  unladylike  conduct  in  retaliation. 
Maggie's  punishment  for  wrong-doing  did  not 
rest  with  them  ;  nor  did  they  make  the  wrong 
right  by  doing  another  wrong. 

With  this  they  were  dismissed,  convinced, 
perhaps,  though  not  altogether  converted  to 
madame's  view. 

Maggie  made  the  most  of  her  grievance,  and 
went  sobbing  loudly  on  her  way  home.  This 
touched  Nanny's  heart.  Her  resentments  were 
short-lived. 

She  ran  breathlessly  after  Maggie,  threw  her 
arms  around  the  obnoxious  neck,  and  kissed  her, 
saying : 

"  Mag,  I  didn't  mean  to  make  you  feel  bad ; 
but  I  do  think  it  was  awful  mean  for  you  to  tell 
of  those  girls." 

At  this  she  ran  back  to  her  friends,  only  to  be 
met  with  their  unqualified  disgust,  and  a  gen- 
eral cry  of: 

"  Why,  Nanny  !     Before  I'd  kiss  Mag  Toole  ! " 

She  paid  no  heed  to  this,  not  feeling  the  least 


The  Naughty  Trick.  99 

disgrace  at  their  opinion  of  her.  With  a  care- 
less and  defiant  toss  of  her  head  she  set  to  work 
with  inextinguishable  energy  at  the  noon  play. 
Irrepressible  she  was,  and  happy  as  a  lark,  be- 
cause she  had  atoned  as  far  as  she  could  for  her 
naughty  trick. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  BEGINNING  OF  A  PROFESSION". 

"  In  Love's  dear  chain  so  bright  a  link, 
Thou  idol  of  thy  parents  ;  —  (drat  the  boy, 
There  goes  my  ink  ! )  " 

MARS'S  desk  at  school,  like  Nanny's,  was 
one  that  required  watching,  its  occupant 
had  so  much  leisure,  and  so  little  regular  busi- 
ness. He  always  began  the  day  bright  and 
sweet ;  and  if  his  books  had  been  less  dull,  would 
probably  have  gone  on  the  day  through  in  that 
frame  of  mind.  But  there  was  little  in  geog- 
raphy to  interest  him  ;  there  was  nothing  what- 
ever in  mental  arithmetic  that  he  cared  for ;  and 
spelling  was  as  useless  as  it  was  mysterious.  So 
between  these  three,  and  his  reading  lesson,  his 


The  Beginning  of  a  Profession.         101 

legs  would  get  restless,  and,  before  he  suspected 
any  wrong,  he  was  being  called  to  account  for 
some  misconduct. 

At  such  times  his  favorite  relief  was  to  draw 
portraits  on  his  slate,  with  the  names  painted 
underneath  in  startling  legibility.  The  portraits 
never  bore  any  likeness  to  the  originals,  and 
were  remarkable  only  for  big  noses  and  crooked 
feet.  But  all  the  same  they  made  his  impressi- 
ble neighbors  laugh,  and  that  was  all  he  wanted. 
After  he  had  been  detected  a  number  of  times 
in  drawing  his  teacher,  his  slate  was  watched 
with  some  distrust. 

Yet,  with  all  his  idleness,  Mars  got  very  few 
reproofs.  He  was  a  great  thinker,  and,  if  free  to 
talk,  could  puzzle  any  philosopher  with  his  ques- 
tions. No  teacher  could  withstand  his  honest 
innocence,  and  his  real  quickness  when  he  cared 
to  be  quick. 

He  wanted  to  be  a  man.  To  be  as  big  as  Don 
was  his  ambition,  and  it  spurred  him  always  like 
a  thong ;  for  Don  would  keep  just  about  such  a 
lofty  distance  in  advance,  however  hard  he  tried, 
and  however  impatiently  he  wished. 

He  made  great  plans  as  to  what  he  would  do 


102  Heart's  Content. 

when  he  was  grown  up.  His  little  brain,  indo- 
lent as  to  routine,  was  busy  as  a  bee  in  this  way. 
Of  course  he  should  be  a  great  man  —  he  had 
never  doubted  that  —  and  he  had  already  chosen 
his  profession. 

He  intended  to  be  a  printer.  He  had  looked 
pretty  well  about  town,  into  work-shops,  and 
offices  and  stores,  and  had  found  a  business  that 
suited  him. 

Every  Saturday,  and  every  half-holiday,  would 
see  his  stubby  figure  climbing  the  dingy  flights 
of  stairs  that  led  to  the  office  of  the  Evening 
Star.  Once  at  the  door,  a  terrible  shyness 
would  steal  over  him,  and  he  would  open  it  very 
softly,  and  creep  in  so  like  a  mouse  that  no  one 
minded  him  or  hardly  knew  he  was  there. 

But  he  kept  his  eyes  open,  and  saw  all  the 
wonders.  First  from  one  quiet  corner  and  then 
from  another,  he  watched  the  men  at  their  work- 
and  by  watching  learned  fully  as  much  as  if  he 
had  spent  his  time  in  asking  questions.  Every 
part  of  the  work  had  a  charm  for  him  ;  but  most 
of  all  the  presses,  so  powerful,  yet  so  easy  and 
perfect  in  every  motion. 


The  Beginning  of  a  Profession.         103 

For  a  long  time,  looking  on  satisfied  him  ;  but 
at  length,  he  was  seized  with  a  desire  to  print 
for  himself. 

Mars  had  very  little  pocket  money,  as  a  gen- 
eral thing,  but  at  about  this  period  he  had  accu- 
mulated three  cents.  This  seemed  to  him  .cap- 
ital enough  for  almost  any  enterprise,  and  he  de- 
termined to  invest  it. 

With  it  shut  tight  in  his  little  hand,  he  started 
off,  his  first  leisure  morning,  without  a  word  to 
any  one  of  his  plans.  Out  of  the  door,  with  a 
whoop  and  a  bang,  he  flew  down  the  steps,  and 
out  upon  the  sidewalk,  with  a  great  flapping  of 
arms,  and,  once  there,  fell  into  a  pace  that  would 
have  done  credit  to  a  race-horse. 

So  it  is  little  wonder  that  by  the  time  he  had 
reached  the  top  of  the  printing  office  stairs,  he 
was  entirely  out  of  breath. 

He  opened  the  door  shyly,  as  usual,  and  stole 
softly  in.  It  was  a  pity  his  mother  and  sisters 
could  not  have  seen  him  at  that  instant,  so  sub- 
dued as  he  was  with  awe  and  interest.  They 
had  a  belief  that  he  was  never  still,  unless  asleep ; 
but  this  was  so  near  an  approach  to  it,  that  it 
must  have  both  amazed  and  gratified  them. 


104  Heart's  Content. 

He  shut  the  door  behind  him  so  gently  that 
the  foreman,  who  was  busy  near  the  centre  of 
the  room,  heard  nothing,  until  the  little  figure 
stood  close  to  his  elbow. 

"  I  want  some  tj'pe,"  said  Mars  boldly,  though 
half  under  his  breath.  The  man  looked  down 
on  him  in  wondering  amusement. 

"  Some  type  ?  "  he  said,  "  how  much  do  you 
want  ?  " 

"  Three  cents  worth." 

The  roan  laughed  outright. 

"  What  is  your  name  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Mars." 

".Mars  what?" 

"  Mars  Lawrence." 

The  man,  who,  luckily  for  Mars,  proved  to  be 
good-natured,  went  to  a  case,  set  up  the  name 
and  gave  it  to  him  ;  for  which,  with  a  business- 
like air,  Mars  proffered  his  three  cents. 

"  Nonsense,  keep  your  money  !  "  the  man 
said ;  and  out  of  the  office  went  Mars  —  not  in 
his  usual  office  fashion,  but  in  real  home  style, 
with  an  eager  rush  and  clatter  down  the  stairs, 
two  steps  at  a  time,  and  making  noise  enough 
for  a  dozen  boys. 


The  Beginning  of  a  Profession.        105 

Home  he  went;  but  when  about  midway 
there,  came  to  an  abrupt  and  total  stop.  An 
idea  had  struck  him.  Why  hadn't  he  said  his 
name  was  Marston,  and  thus  have  got  more  let- 
ters? Yes,  and  why  hadn't  he  said  Frederick 
Marston,  which  was  his  true  name,  and  have 
added  just  so  much  more  to  his  alphabet? 

The  impulse  to  return  and  make  known  his 
mistake  was  very  strong,  but  was  offset  by  his 
impatience  to  get  to  work  at  printing  as  soon  as 
possible.  So  home  he  went. 

He  sought  his  father's  study  up-stairs,  where 
he  knew  he  should  find  ink  and  paper.  He  set 
to  work.  His  hat  was  on  the  back  of  his  head, 
and  he  even  forgot  to  whistle. 

The  types  had  fallen  apart,  but  he  set  them 
properly  together  again,  and  then  wetted  them 
thoroughly  with  ink.  He  stamped  them  upon  a 
plain  sheet  of  paper.  Nothing  but  a  blot  and 
blur !  He  tried  again,  and  then  again,  but 
always  with  the  same  result  —  he  could  not 
make  a  single  distinct  letter. 

Then  he  tried  upon  his  father's  blotter,  first 
with  but  little  ink.  and  then  with  a  great  deal, 
until  it  lookecf  like  a  huge  photograph  of  the 


106  Heart's  Content. 

moon;  and  finally  —  the  climax  to  all  Mars's 
perplexities  —  he  got  mad. 

Just  then  his  father  entered.  He  enquired 
into  the  trouble ;  and,  learning  what  the  matter 
was,  told  him  he  should  have  printer's  ink,  which 
is  altogether  different  from  writing  ink. 

At  this  information  his  temper  cooled  and  his 
spirits  rose.  Off  he  went  again,  and,  in  a  very 
short  space  of  time,  the  man  who  had  given  him 
the  types  heard  a  panting  and  puffing  noise  at 
his  elbow,  and  looking  down,  saw  Mars,  heated, 
and  gasping  and  eager. 

"  Well,  my  lad,  what's  wanted  now  ?  " 

"  Ink ! "  came  from  Mars  like  a  projectile. 
His  fingers  bore  the  marks  of  his  bad  luck  in  the 
study,  and  the  man  understood. 

However,  it  was  with  somewhat  diminished 
good-nature  that  he  gave  him  a  dab  of  ink  on  a 
bit  of  paper,  saying,  as  he  did  so  : 

"Now,  be  off!" 

And  off  Mars  went,  without  the  least  idea 
that  he  had  bothered  anj-body. 

With  this  ink  he  had  better  luck,  and  soon 
grew  quite  skillful  in  stamping  his  name.  He 
gained  his  experience,  however,  at  the  cost  of 


TJie  Beginning  of  a  Profession.         107 

much  distress  to  his  mother.  She  found  "  Mars 
Lawrence  "  in  all  stages  of  misplaced  letters, 
printed  on  everything  —  on  the  table-cloth, 
where  he  had  eaten  his  breakfast ;  on  doors  and 
window-seats ;  on  her  embroidery,  and  on  nearly 
every  page  of  his  school-books.  He  even  printed 
it  slyly  on  the  back  of  Jane's  neck,  at  which  she 
smiled,  though  it  made  cold  shivers  run  over 
her. 

But  this  grew  tiresome.  He  wanted  more  let- 
ters ;  he  would  like  Don's  and  Nanny's  and 
Jane's  names.  And  to  Mars  there  was  always  a 
way. 

He  never  wasted  time  in  wishing  or  whining  ; 
and  now  his  way  was  to  go  and  ask  for  what  he 
wanted,  as  he  had  done  at  first. 

But  poor  Mars  got  snubbed.  At  sight  of  him 
for  the  third  time,  with  his  errand  upon  his  face 
as  plain  as  if  it  had  been  printed  there  with  his 
own  types,  the  foreman  scowled. 

"What  now?"  he  asked  gruffly. 

Marsie's  heart  sank.  Yet  he  managed  to  ex- 
plain that  it  was  Don's  and  Nanny's  names  now 
that  he  wanted. 

The  man  foresaw,  doubtless,  that  his  customer 


108  Heart's   Content. 

was  likely  to  prove  more  prompt  than  profitable 
and  that  it  was  wisest  to  put  a  stop  to  him  at 
once.  And  so  in  a  very  stern  voice,  and  with  a 
look  of  great  severity,  he  said : 

"  You've   had  enough   already.     Run  home." 

In  almost  any  other  place  the  little  lock  on 
the  crown  of  Mars's  head  would  have  bristled 
up,  and  he  would  have  contested  his  right  to  buy 
all  the  type  he  wanted.  But  his  natural  anger 
melted  into  dismay  as  he  remembered  that  he  no 
longer  had  his  three  cents  ;  in  the  first  flush  of 
his  getting  his  type  for  nothing  it  had  gone  for 
candy. 

He  retired  crestfallen,  and  the  man  laughed 
in  an  amused  way,  as  his  stubby  figure  retreated, 
at  the  contrast  between  his  coming  and  his 
going.  The  first  had  been  buoyant,  certain,  im-" 
perative ;  the  last  was  stunned,  disappointed, 
mediative. 

"  He  would  have  grown  to  be  a  nuisance," 
the  man  murmured  to  himself,  as  a  half  regret 
entered  his  heart  at  that  childish  dejection. 

Mars  more  than  ever  wished  that  he  was  a 
man.  Then  he  could  have  a  printing  office  of 


The  Beginning  of  a  Profession.         109 

his  own  ;  then  he  wouldn't  have  to  depend  upon 
other  people — other  people  always  got  cross. 

And,  as  he  wished,  the  "  volcano  "  began  to 
show  signs  of  activit}r.  Before  he  could  really 
comprehend  that  he  had  been  told  to  "  go  home  " 
—  or,  rather,  as  he  began  fully  to  comprehend 
it  —  he  grew  very  angry.  He  swung  his  little 
head ;  he  muttered  defiant  things  to  himself. 
He  would  have  a  printing  office  of  his  own,  in- 
deed he  would. 

Fortunately,  Mars's  toys  consisted  mostly  of 
miniature  tools.  This  was  because  of  his 
acknowledged  ingenuity,  and  because  he  was 
very  fond  of  devising  and  "  tinkering."  He 
had  the  tools  to  work  with,  and  he  did  not 
waste  his  time  in  resentment. 

He  went  to  work  in  earnest,  at  odd  times,  and 
he  did  make  a  printing  press,  which  was  quite 
a  curiosity  in  its  way.  It  printed  very  poorly, 
but  it  did  print,  nevertheless.  It  was  quite 
likely  to  drop  to  pieces  while  in  use,  but  was 
quickly  put  together  again ;  for  Mars  knew 
its  weak  parts,  and  expected  it  to  break  down 
just  about  so  often. 


110  Heart's  Content. 

Don  declared  he  should  die  laughing,  when 
he  first  saw  it,  and  Mars  flew  at  him,  for  the 
remark. 

His  father  gave  him  some  useful  hints,  and 
he  endeavored  to  improve  his  machine,  upon 
them.  More  than  one  day's  play-time  was 
spent  upon  it,  and  he  drew  plans  for  it  on  his 
slate,  instead  of  his  teacher's  portrait. 

He  did  not  soon  forgive  the  man  who  had 
treated  him  so  curtly,  and  forsook  that  office  for 
a  rival  one,  where  he  was  more  hospitably 
received. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

THE  GOD   OF   WAR  AT   A  DISADVANTAGE. 

"  Bring  forth  the  horse  !  "     The  horse  was  brought, 
In  truth  he  was  a  noble  steed." 

AT    last    vacation    came.      The    increasing 
heat  had  made  it  very  desirable  to  all. 
Don's  record,  in  study  and  deportment,  was 
a  source  of  pride  to  the  entire  family  at  Heart's 
Content.     When  he  delivered  the  paper  to  his 
father  his  manly  cheek  had  a  happy  glow,  for 
he  saw  unusual  approval  in  his  father's   kind 
eyes. 

"  Why,  Don,"  said  Mr.  Lawrence,  "  you've 
done  very  well  —  very  well  indeed."  Then 
glancing  through  the  record  again  he  said,  mus- 
ing and  smiling,  "he  must  talk  with  mother 
about  this." 

in 


112  Heart's  Content. 

But  mother  had  already  seen  it,  and  hers  had 
been  tears  of  pleasure  —  mother-fashion  —  in- 
stead of  smiles.  It  seemed  to  her  Don  had 
never  given  them  any  trouble ;  that  he  was 
really,  and  without  natural  maternal  partiality, 
the  noblest,  best  boy  she  had  ever  known. 
Everything  regarding  him  gave  them  satisfac- 
tion and  pride. 

The  "  talk  "  which  Mr.  Lawrence  planned  to 
have  with  mother,  was  of  something  Don  could 
not  have  dreamed,  even  in  his  most  sanguine 
moments.  It  was  a  counsel  as  to  whether  Don 
was  not  old  enough  to  join  this  year  in  the 
annual  fishing  excursion  which  his  father  made 
to  some  inland  lakes,  quite  a  long  distance  from 
home.  Mr.  Lawrence  felt  that  Don  fully  de- 
served this  pleasure,  if  Mrs.  Lawrence  could 
only  be  brought  to  feel  quite  reconciled  to  the 
exposure  and  risk  it  involved. 

Mr.  Lawrence  was  an  ardent  sportsman,  and 
was  accustomed  to  go  once,  and  sometimes  twice, 
during  the  season,  on  fishing  and  shooting  trips. 
These  had  been  Don's  envy,  year  after  year, 
because  he  was  considered  too  small  to  undergo 
their  fatigues. 


The   God  of  War  at  a  Disadvantage.     113 

Now,  however,  since  Mr.  Lawrence  felt  he 
ought  to  have  some  reward,  this  longed-for 
enjoyment  was  proposed;  and  Mrs.  Lawrence, 
knowing  Don's  great  desire,  was  too  indulgent 
to  withhold  her  consent. 

So  the  matter  was  decided  and  the  promise 
given,  though  the  time  for  the  journey  was 
fixed  for  the  late  summer,  or  early  in  September. 

It  did  not  take  away  from  the  zest  of  the 
excursion  any,  to  have  it  so  long  in  anticipation. 
It  added  to  it,  rather.  It  was  something  which 
would  bear  dreaming  about,  and  planning  for. 
There  were  lines  and  rods  and  hooks  to  be  got- 
ten in  readiness ;  the  fitting  up  of  various  camp 
conveniences,  which  Mr.  Lawrence  directed,  and 
which  served  to  keep  Don's  odd  hours  pretty 
well  filled. 

And  Don  never  tired  of  talking  of  his  pros- 
pect, nor  of  building  castles  in  the  air  over  it  — 
or  rather  of  building  a  tent  in  the  air,  for  they 
were  to  be  gone  a  week ;  and  were  to  live  all 
that  time  in  a  tent,  like  gipsies. 

But  this  morsel,  so  sweet  to  Don,  was  worm- 
wood and  gall  to  Mars.  We  have  seen  that  ho 
could  never  resignedly  get  over  the  fact  that 


114  Heart*  Content. 

he  was  younger  and  smaller  than  Don.  What 
Don  had,  he  wanted ;  what  Don  did,  he  wanted 
to  do.  And  it  really  grew  to  be  such  a  source 
of  bitterness  to  him,  day  by  day,  that  Mrs.  Law- 
rence felt  it  necessary  to  devise  some  plan  that 
should  lead  his  mind  away  from  it. 

So  she  proposed  that  he  go  to  his  Uncle  Fred's 
in  the  country,  for  a  week,  on  a  visit  to  his 
cousin  Fanny.  This  plan  had  the  desired  effect. 
His  visit  was  to  be  made  at  once,  while  Don's 
plan  was  yet  in  the  distance.  In  that  he  de- 
tected an  advantage ;  and  his  spirits  rose 
accordingly. 

Still  he  rather  dreaded  a  visit  to  a  girl.  It 
did  not  sound  well,  and  he  generally  corrected 
the  statement  by  emphasizing  the  fact  -that  it 
was  Uncle  Fred  he  was  going  to  see.  Fanny 
was  a  hoyden,  and  could  out-Herod  Mars  in 
mischief,  any  day.  Mars  liked  her  spirit,  but 
was  in  terror  of  her,  nevertheless. 

He  was  to  go  a  few  miles  by  rail,  and  there 
Pat,  Uncle  Fred's  man,  was  to  meet  him  with 
old  familiar  Brown  Bilty  the  pony,  and  the 
buggy,  and  he  was  to  go  twelve  miles  further 
into  the  country. 


The  God  of  War  at  a  Disadvantage.     115 

The  day  came ;  and  his  leave-taking  was  joy- 
ous and  exuberant.  Don  drove  him  to  the 
station  with  his  own  mouse-colored  pony,  and 
Mars  bowed  again  and  again  to  the  girls  who 
were  throwing  kisses  to  him  from  the  gate. 

Jane's  kisses,  however,  came  vaguely  from 
the  depths  of  her  apron,  in  which  her  face  was 
buried  with  sobs.  Mars's  holiday  promised 
bitter  loneliness  for  her,  she  thought.  And, 
indeed,  who  would  there  be  to  patronize  her, 
and  to  send  her  on  countless  errands,  hither  and 
thither,  and  to  dictate  to  her,  and  to  lord  it 
over  her,  generally,  when  Mars  was  gone  ?  Sim- 
ple little  woman,  she  mourned  for  her  tyrant ! 

Mars's  hair  was  sleekly  brushed,  and  he  wore 
the  most  shining  of  faces.  But  Jane's'  tears 
were  a  brackish  drop  in  the  otherwise  sweet 
draught  of  his  complacence ;  and  he  called  out 
to  her,  the  last  thing : 

"  Never  mind,  Janey,  I'll  be  back  in  a  Aveek  ! " 

When  near  the  station,  evidently  having  been 
for  some  minutes  plunged  into  deep  thought, 
he  brought  from  the  depths  of  his  pocket  a 
stubbed  Uit  of  lead  pencil — blue  at  one  end, 
and  red  at  the  other.  This,  next  to  his  broken- 


116  Heart's  Content. 

bladed  knife,  was  his  chief  treasure,  and  had 
been  pretty  much  worn  out  in  miscellaneous 
service. 

"  Don,  I  want  you  to  give  Janey  this  pencil 
until  I  come  back,"  he  said,  with  a  business-like 
air.  "And  tell  her  not  to  lose  it,"  he  added,  as  he 
realized  the  height  and  depth  of  his  generosity. 

This  act  seemed  to  dispel  the  haunting  ghost 
of  Jane's  tears,  and  to  leave  him  free  to  the  full 
enjoyment  of  everything  about  him. 

To  part  from  Don,  as  the  train  swept  up  to 
the  station,  placed  no  strain  upon  his  feelings. 
The  importance  of  his  journey  was  now  the  all- 
absorbing  thought. 

That  part  of  it  by  rail  was  quickly  made ; 
and  at  its  end  Pat  was  on  hand  with  Brown 
Billy,  and  Mars  and  his  carpet-bag  were  soon 
adjusted,  and  all  went  bowling  along  over  the 
dusty  road  toward  Uncle  Fred's. 

Past  grain-laden  hills  they  joggedj  through 
thick,  still  woods,  over  rude  bridges,  with  noisy 
water  underneath ;  and,  finally,  when  Mars  had 
got  very  tired  and  very  hungry,  he  spied  the 
great  farm-house  overhung  with  its  tall  elms, 


The  God  of  War  at  a  Disadvantage.     117 

shining  white  -and  hospitable  at  the  summit  of  a 
long  knoll. 

It  was  harvest-time,  and  men  were  in  the 
field  cutting  the  wheat.  It  was  so  much  more 
liko  the  country  than  his  own  home,  that  Mars 
wanted  to  shout  and  swing  his  hat. 

They  turned  into  a  lane.  Ah,  how  green  the 
grass  was  in  places  where  it  was  newly-mown 
for  feeding  the  horses !  And  how  long  and 
loving  the  elm-boughs  were  over  the  well !  and 
then  —  with  consternation  —  what  a  great  girl 
Fanny  had  got  to  be  !  —  for  she  had  caught 
sight  of  the  arrival,  and  stood  smiling  in  a  side 
door-way. 

She  was  tall  and  rosy,  and,  when  she  stood 
still,  had  a  certain  expectant  poise,  like  a  bird 
about  to  take  flight.  Rest  with  her,  was  merely 
the  eagerness  of  waiting  for  a  new  purpose,  and 
motion  was  her  element. 

All  the  preaching  on  tha  text  of  manners  that 
had  been  leveled  at  her  since  she  could  remem- 
ber, had  fallen  off  like  water  from  a  duck,  and 
her  feathers  were  not  even  wet.  Manners,  with 
her,  were  mere  after-thoughts,  coming  in  with 
stately  severity  after  all  the  mischief  was  clone* 


118  Heart's  Content. 

And  in  truth,  to  say  that  she  thought  at  all, 
would  be  giving  more  weight  to  her  frolicsome 
impulses  than  they  deserved. 

She  was  two  years  older  than  Don — old 
enough  to  begin  to  have  some  dignity ;  as  tall, 
nearly,  as  her  mother,  and  delighting  to  twist 
her  girlish  braids  up  at  the  back  of  her  head 
into  what  she  called  a  "  wad."  A  great,  live, 
black  twist  it  was,  and  she  enjoyed  getting  a 
side  look  in  the  glass  at  its  abundance  —  laugh- 
ing as  she  thought  it  looked  really  like  a 
"young  lady." 

It  had  been  some  time  since  Fanny  had  seen 
any  of  her  cousins.  She  was  very  curious  about 
Mars,  for,  as  a  general  thing,  she  had  a  contempt 
for  boys.  So  she  had  watched  his  arrival ;  and 
when  she  got  the  first  glimpse  of  him,  she 
laughed  gleefully,  and  said,  "  Oh,  what  a  very 
little  fellow !  " 

She  ran  out  to  meet  him,  and  gave  him  a 
hearty  kiss.  "  Why,  Mars,  you  don't  grow  one 
bit!"  she  cried.  And  then  he  noticed  ho\v  she 
was  shooting  up  in  height,  like  a  fair  rose,  so 
crimson  were  her  cheeks,  and  so  slim  her  grace- 
ful bodv. 


The   G-od  of  War  at  a  Disadvantage.     119 

"  Why,"  she  cried  again,  "you're  rounder  and 
fctubbier  than  ever !  you  grow  broad,  instead  of 
long!" 

Somehow,  Fanny  had  the  effect  of  putting  a 
damper  on  Mars's  spirits.  He  was  half  afraid  of 
her,  for  some  reason  he  could  not  explain.  So 
when  he  got  into  the  house,  after  greeting  his 
Aunt  Catherine,  he  sat  down  very  still,  and 
folded  his  hands  and  waited  for  dinner. 

He  wanted  very  much  to  run  to  the  barn  to 
find  Uncle  Fred,  but  could  only  sit  there,  feeling 
bashful  and  awkward. 

"  Oh,"  he  thought  to  himself,  with  angry  im- 
patience, "  if  it  wasn't  for  girls  !  "  —  which 
meant,  of  course,  that  everything  would  be 
much  more  delightful  but  for  them. 

But  "girls"  did  not  spoil  his  appetite  for 
bread  and  butter,  and  Aunt  Catherine's  beauti- 
ful cucumber  pickles ;  and  he  was  blissfully 
oblivious  of  Fanny's  frequent  bursts  of  laughter, 
as  he  ate  and  ate,  in  an  absorbed  and  ravenous 
fashion,  and  still  had  not  enough. 

Fanny  scarcely  ate  any  dinner  for  the  fun  she 
was  anticipating  out  of  this  blushing  but  vora- 


120  Heart's  Content. 

cious  oddity.  She  thought  him  so  very  meek, 
so  quiet  for  a  boy. 

Better  acquaintance  was  destined  to  change 
her  views  materially.  But  she  Lad  as  keen  a 
relish  of  these  preliminary  opinions,  as  if  they 
were  to  prove  infallible. 

Mars's  appetite  abated  in  due  time,  and  then 
he  was  ready  to  make  a  raid  upon  the  barn. 
But  Aunt  Catherine  laid  down  the  law  very 
emphatically,  that  he  was  not  to  run  about  at  all 
that  afternoon.  He  could  go  to  the  orchard 
swing ;  but  he  was  already  too  tired  to  go  either 
to  the  barns  or  the  fields,  and  must  be  content 
to  play  about  the  house. 

He  was  glad  when  it  came  supper-time,  and 
glad  when  it  came  twilight,  but  gladdest  of  all 
at  bed-time.  The  touch  of  the  sweet  clean  pil- 
low was  sudden  oblivion  to  Lira ;  nor  did  he 
wake  next  morning  until  long  after  the  whole 
farm  household  was  well  on  with  its  day's  work, 
both  in  the  house  and  field.  When  he  came 
down-stairs  Fanny  wore  the  same  half-critical 
smile  at  his  stubbiness  that  she  had  indulged  in 
on  his  arrival ;  but  she  greeted  him  with  play- 
mate fervor,  nevertheless. 


The   G-od  of  War  at  a  Disadvantage.     121 

His  breakfast  had  been  kept  for  him  —  a  bowl 
of  milk,  and  such  muffins  as  only  Aunt  Kate 
could  make. 

His  bashfulness  had  entirely  disappeared 
With  his  hat  on  the  back  of  his  head,  and  with 
Fanny  following  at  a  curious  and  amazed  dis- 
tance behind  him,  he  was  off  to  the  places  he 
well  remembered  on  his  only  visit  there,  two 
years  before. 

There  was  the  haymow ;  the  crooked  willow 
seat  by  the  brook ;  the  pasture  where  the  young 
colts  were  ;  and  the  fields  where  the  men  were 
at  work.  To  increase  his  freedom  he  wanted  to 
take  off  his  shoes  and  stockings  and  run  about 
in  his  bare  feet ;  but  one  eager  trial  of  that  nov- 
elty proved  a  painful  failure.  He  was  glad  to 
get  the  stockings  and  shoes  upon  his  feet  again, 
especially  as  Fanny  laughed  gaily  at  his  grim- 
aces, when  the  stubble  pricked  him  and  the 
stones  bruised  him. 

Oh,  such  a  hungry,  heated  pair  of  wild  creat- 
ures as  they  were,  when  after  a  long  morning's 
chase  they  came  in  to  dinner,  at  the  call  of  the 
sweet  old-fashioried  horn. 

At  dinner    Uncle  Fred   took  occasion  to  say 


122  Heart's  Content. 

that  he  should  have  to  lay  down  the  law  a  little 
to  Mars,  particularly  about  the  horses,  as  he 
knew  Mars's  fondness  for  being  with  them, 
riding  and  driving. 

Since  his  last  visit,  old  Ben  —  the  nervous, 
fractious  old  horse,  who  was  so  terribly  intoler- 
ant of  boys  —  had  grown  even  more  likely  to 
kick  or  bite  at  the  approach  of  one,  and  he 
wished  Mars  to  leave  him  entirely  to  the  charge 
of  the  men.  He  might  ride  or  drive  Brown  Billy 
at  any  time ;  but  he  must  be  sure  to  keep  away 
from  Ben. 

This  was  the  only  restriction  he  placed  upon 
him  while  he  stayed  at  the  farm ;  and,  boy 
fashion,  Mars  straightway  felt  in  his  heart  that 
he  was  being  greatly  limited,  and  that  he  could 
manage  Ben  as  well  as  any  one  ;  and  he  said  so 
in  very  mild  terms. 

"  Well,  no  matter  what  you  think,  my  boy," 
said  Uncle  Fred,  "  remember  that  I  wish  you  to 
keep  away  from  Ben  —  entirely.  He  is  ill-tem- 
pered with  having  been  teazed  by  boys,  and  he 
is  not  safe." 

Mars  submitted  ;  and  for  that  day  and  the 
next  found  so  much  to  entertain  and  keep  him 


The   God  of  War  at  a  Disadvantage.     123 

busy,  that  that  instant's  temptation  to  deal  with 
Ben  —  which  meant  of  course  to  master  him  — 
did  not  come  up  again. 

It  was  delightful  to  be  high  and  swaying  on 
Brown  Billy's  back,  night  and  morning,  and  to 
drive  Fanny  in  the  phaeton  along  the  quiet 
country  roads  after  wild  berries  and  hazlenuts. 
But  with  use,  all  pleasures  grow  familiar,  and 
the  busy  play-lover  must  find  new  sources  of  dis- 
traction, and  the  prospect  grew  more  and  more 
imminent  that  he  would  get  into  mischief. 

On  the  third  day,  it  happened  that  Uncle  Fred 
had  gone  to  the  city,  and  several  of  the  men 
were  also  absent ;  and  when  Mars  went,  as 
usual,  to  ride  Brown  Billy  to  the  brook  to  water, 
Fannie  ran  out,  and  declared  her  intention  to 
ride  on  behind,  with  him. 

In  the  next  stall  to  Billy  stood  old  Ben,  de- 
mure and  very  thirsty,  as  it  seemed. 

Now,  of  course,  Mars  did  not  like  the  idea  of 
having  a  girl  on  the  same  horse  with  him,  and  it 
seemed  to  him  there  could  be  no  danger  or  harm, 
at  all  if  he  rode  Ben  just  once,  and  let  Fanny 
have  Brown  Billy  all  to  herself. 

He  hinted  as  much  ;  but  Fanny  protested  : 


124  Heart's    Content. 

"  Papa  says  you  cannot  manage  him,  and  you 
must  not  do  it." 

This  was  hardly  judicious  in  Fanny,  for  it 
roused  an  obstinacy  in  Mars  to  be  told  he  "  must 
not."  Moreover,  it  stung  his  pride  to  be  told 
by  a  girl  that  there  was  anything  he  could  not 
do  —  any  horse,  or  any  emergency,  that  he  could 
not  manage. 

So  he  helped  Fanny  to  climb  upon  Brown 
Billy's  back,  which  she  dicl,  supposing  he  would 
follow. 

Then  he  marched  sternly  into  old  Ben's  stall, 
untied  him,  led  him  out,  got  on  to  his  back,  and 
followed  Fanny  toward  the  brook. 

Ben  plodded  with  his  head  down,  and  without 
the  slightest  appearance  of  resentment  at  his 
boy-burden.  Mars's  spirit  rose  as  he  noted  his 
pacific  pace  and  general  docility ;  and  he  sat 
very  grandly  as  Fanny  kept  looking  back  over 
her  shoulder,  to  say : 

"  Oh,  Mars,  I'm  very  afraid  I  " 

When  they  reached  the  brook,  and  both  horses 
were  drinking  long  draughts  of  pure  water, 
Fanny  got  into  a  great  fit  of  laughter  for  fear 
shy  should  slip  down  over  Billy's  neck ;  and  she 


The   God  of  War  at  a  Disadvantage.     125 

screamed  little  screams  if  he  splashed  his  foot, 
or  lifted  his  nose  to  dispose  of  a  troublesome  fly. 

"  Why,  sit  straight !  "  commanded  Mars,  with 
an  air  of  great  familiarity  with  such  situations  ; 
"  you  can't  fall,  if  you  only  sit  straight  and  stop 
laughing  !  " 

Poor  Mars  !  No  sooner  had  he  said  that,  than 
Billy,  giving  a  restive  grasp  at  a  fly  on  his  fore- 
leg, happened  to  touch  old  Ben's  haunch,  ever 
so  little,  yet  quite  enough  to  affront  him  into 
brandishing  both  heels  as  high  as  he  could. 

There  was  nothing  to  be  expected  of  Mars 
but  that,  being  off  his  guard,  he  should  go 
straight  over  Ben's  head  into  the  water.  This 
he  did  in  such  sudden  fashion  that  he  never  real- 
ized the  transit  at  all. 

But  a  gulp,  a  splash,  and  a  wild  cry,  attested 
that  his  fall  had  not  been  fatal. 

He  floundered,  arid  tried  to  lift  himself,  but  he 
was  hurt.  His  leg,  oh,  his  leg  was  broken,  he 
called  frantically  to  Fanny. 

Now  Ben,  having  disposed  of  his  boy,  had 
given  one  triumphant  wheel,  and  galloped  home- 
ward, which  had  so  stimulated  Brown  Billy  that 
lie  was  moved  to  follow ;  and  Fanny,  letting  go 


126  Heart's   Content. 

all  hold  upon  him  at  once  had  slid  securely  to 
the  ground,  from  which  she  quickly  sprang  to 
go  to  Mars's  rescue. 

She  tugged  bravely  at  his  coat,  and  finally  got 
him  at  such  a  poise  that  he  could  help  himself 
somewhat,  when,  by  their  united  efforts,  she 
pulling,  and  he  scrambling,  he  was  landed,  as 
dripping  and  woe-begone  a  wight  as  ever  took 
unwilling  bath. 

And  he  was  hurt,  in  truth.  One  leg  pained 
him  so  cruelly  that  his  face  was  drawn,  and  the 
tears  would  come,  in  spite  of  himself. 

To  see  a  boy  cry  touched  Fanny's  sense  of  the 
ludicrous,  and  she  sank  down  on  the  sand,  hold- 
ing both  sides,  and  trying  to  say,  between  her 
spasms  of  merriment : 

"  Oh,  Mars,  you  look  for  all  the  world  like 
one  of  those  crying  rubber  dolls,  or  like  a  Chinese 
image !  " 

At  this,  Mars  sobbed  in  grievous  earnest.  It 
was  bad  enough  to  be  hurt,  but  infinitely  worse 
to  be  laughed  at,  and  for  no  fault  of  his  own. 
This  made  Fanny  repent  of  her  heartlessness 
somewhat,  and  she  set  to  work  to  see  what  could 


The   G-od  of  War  at  a  Disadvantage.     127 

be  done  —  laughing  underneath  all  the  same, 
however. 

She  found  he  could  not  stand,  and  she  felt 
that  she  must  run  home  for  help.  But  hardly 
was  her  decision  formed,  before  she  saw  Pat  ap- 
proaching. Ben's  and  Billy's  riderless  return  to 
the  stable  had  alarmed  him,  and  he  had  come  in 
search  of  that  "  botherin'  boy." 

He  picked  Mars  up,  drenched  and  suffering, 
and  bore  him  home ;  while  Fanny,  half  tearful, 
half  merry,  acted  as  escort. 

It  was  not  a  fracture,  but  only  a  slight  sprain ; 
just  enough  to  enforce  a  lesson  in  obedience, 
which  Aunt  Catharine  felt  obliged  to  read  him 
in  Uncle  Fred's  absence. 

The  teasing  and  frivolous  Fanny  was  very 
sisterly  and  sweet  in  her  care  of  Mars.  She 
read  to  him  and  played  puzzle  with  him. 

She  sat  by  his  chair  nearly  all  the  time,  in- 
stead of  running  at  large  as  she  might  have  done. 
His  leg  was  bandaged,  and  laid  upon  the  cushion 
of  the  chair  in  front  of  him,  which  position  did 
not  hinder  his  whistling  ;  and  he  amused  Fanny 
by  making  a  work-box,  which  she  praised  very 
much. 


128  Heart's  Content. 

It  was  nearly  two  weeks  before  he  could  go 
home  comfortably,  and  further  play  out-of-doors 
had  been  pretty  effectually  stopped  by  the  acci- 
dent. He  was  much  chagrined  over  the  whole 
affair,  and  grew  angry  at  once,  when,  now  and 
then,  Fanny  said : 

"  No  danger  of  falling,  if  you  only  sit  straight, 
and  don't  laugh  I " 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  EXPERIMENT. 

*'  Sweet  hour  of  twilight !  in  the  solitude 
Of  the  pine  forest  and  the  silent  shore 
Which  bounds  the  silent  immemorial  wood." 

WHEN  Mars  got  home,  after  his  prolonged 
visit,  he  found  them  all  at  Heart's  Con- 
tent overjoyed  to  see  him.  He  was  not  so 
brown  and  hardy  as  they  had  hoped  he  might 
become,  but  had  rather  lost  in  tan  from  being  so 
much  in  the  house,  and  was  also  more  than  usu- 
ally subdued  in  manner. 

All  his  trials  had  been  faithfully  written  to 

Jane,  who  shed  showers  of  tears  over  the  facts, 

while  Don  and  Nanny  laughed  convulsively  over 

the  spelling.    Horse  was  spelled  "  h-o-a-r-s-e," 

129 


130  Hearts  Content. 

and  sprain  "  s-p-r-a-n ; "  but  Jane  failed  to  find 
anything  ridiculous  in  that,  so  strongly  was  her 
pity  moved. 

On  the  whole,  Mars  had  had  a  very  good  time, 
and  was  so  glad  to  be  once  more  at  home  that 
even  Don's  approaching  excursion  did  not  make 
him  envious.  Indeed,  he  helped  the  camping 
plans  along  with  zest,  and  seemed  quite  as  happy 
in  doing  that,  as  he  would  have  been  to  form 
one  of  the  projected  party. 

At  length  the  eventful  morning  dawned,  upon 
which  Don  was  to  essay  his  first  real  sport,  and 
it  found,  already  awake,  a  thoroughly  happy  and 
excited  lad.  He  felt  himself  to  be  —  with  the 
innocence  of  youth — a  very  important  member 
of  the  little  band  of  sportsmen,  which  was  that 
day  to  set  out  for  the  woods  ;  hence  the  need  of 
being  up  before  daj'break. 

Mr.  Lawrence  had  consented  to  Don's  taking 
his  shot  gun,  which  was  the  greatest  and  dearest 
of  his  possessions,  though  little  used.  The  plan 
did  not  include  a  season  of  hunting,  but  Don 
said,  with  a  grim  mixture  of  doubt  and  belief, 
"  in  case  of  a  bear,  you  know." 

Getting  his  traps  together  took  all  the  time 


The  Experiment.  131 

until  breakfast,  which  was  much  earlier  than 
usual  to  admit  of  a  prompt  start. 

They  were  to  go  by  rail  about  a  five  hours' 
journey;  there  they  were  to  meet  their  camp 
equipage  and  supplies,  and  several  others  were 
to  join  Mr.  Lawrence  and  his  son.  From  there, 
teamsters  had  been  engaged  to  transport  them 
through  the  forests  for  about  six  miles  to  the 
fishing  grounds.  They  did  not  expect  to  arrive 
in  camp  until  night. 

Mr.  Lawrence  and  Don  were  rather  heavily 
laden  with  their  personal  belongings,  for  a  week 
in  the  woods  required  no  little  preparation. 

It  meant  sufficient  clothing  for  any  possible 
emergency  —  rain,  heat,  or  cold  ;  it  meant  med- 
icines, in  case  of  accident  or  sickness ;  and  be- 
sides these  things,  the  thousand  and  one  trifles 
so  necessary  to  civilized  comfort  even  in  unciv- 
ilized living. 

There  was  so  much  commotion  in  getting 
away,  that  nobody  thought  to  cry,  except  Jane, 
who  was  ready  to  do  emotional  dut\',  at  any 
time,  for  the  entire  famil}-.  She  dropped  a  few 
tears  in  secret  over  Don's  gun-case,  but  had  too 
much  shyness  to  make  any  public  manifestation. 


132  Heart's  Content. 

In  her  characteristic  desire  to  worry  about 
something,  she  had  taken  to  worrying  about 
wolves. 

What  if  a  pack  of  wolves  should  follow  the 
wagons,  and  destroy  the  party,  one  by  one  ? 
She  had  once  seen  a  picture  of  a  lone  man  in  a 
forest,  on  a  winter  moonJight  night,  perched 
upon  the  roof  of  an  old  hut,  or  a  heap  of  logs, 
playing  vigorously  on  a  violin ;  while  about  him, 
in  the  snow,  were  squatted  upon  their  haunches, 
a  score  of  gaunt,  open-mouthed  wolves. 

This  picture  was  her  nightmare  ;  and  she 
dwelt  upon  it  so  constantly,  in  view  of  her 
father's  tenting  project,  that  she  felt  sure  it  was 
all  to  be  repeated  with  Don,  except  that  Don 
had  no  violin. 

She  had  fretted  so  over  it  in  spirit  that  she 
had  quite  worked  herself  into  a  fever  the  night 
before  ;  and  as  she  lay  awake  in  the  dark,  and 
heard  her  own  little  heart  beat,  with  great 
thumps,  it  sounded  in  her  ears  like  "  wolf  I 
wolf!" 

She  kept  all  these  fanciful  terrors  to  herself, 
but  they  sufficiently  explain  the  hot  drops  that 


The  Experiment.  133 

splashed  from  her  eyes  upon  the  heaped-up  non- 
descript packages  at  the  door,  waiting  to  be 
loaded  into  an  express  wagon  for  the  train. 

When  they  finally  got  started,  Nanny  threw 
her  slipper  after  them,  and  Trudge,  thinking  it 
the  right  thing  to  do,  followed  suit.  Mars  was 
left  in  charge  of  the  family,  which  helped  to  les- 
sen a  dreadfully  suffocating  feeling  in  his  throat, 
as  he  saw  them  move  off. 

The  excitement  was  at  last  past,  and  they 
were  gone,  and  then  the  day's,  monotony  set  in. 
It  is  to  those  who  are  left  behind  that  the  hours 
are  long  and  slow  of  flight.  The  goer-forth  has 
movement  and  change,  by  which  the  pangs  of 
parting  are  dulled. 

We  will  not  trace  Don's  journey,  step  by  step, 
but  will  take  up  the  sportsmen,  when,  towards 
twilight,  the  lumbering,  jolting  wagons  contain- 
ing the  camping  equipage  of  the  party,  halted 
upon  the  shore  of  a  lake,  set  like  a  mirror  in  a 
frame,  deep  in  a  forest  of  pine  and  hemlock, 
with  a  sprinlding  of  hard-wood  trees  —  oaks, 
maple  and  beach.  A  day  of  weariness  was 
ended,  and  the  goal  reached. 

The  sun  had  just  hidden  himself  behind  the 


134  Hearts  Content. 

fringe  of  forest  which  marked  the  western  hori- 
zon. As  the  wagons  stopped,  each  one  fell 
mechanically  to  work  to  get  ready  for  the  night. 
While  one  cleared  a  space  for  the  tent,  others 
speedily  unloaded  the  wagons,  watered  the 
horses,  and  aided  the  teamsters  in  getting  ready 
as  quickly  as  possible  for  their  return.  It  was 
not  long  before  the  emptied  wagons  were  faced 
about,  and  the  jolting  and  rumbling  of  their 
wheels  were  heard  growing  fainter  and  more 
-distant,  as  the  tardy  darkness  came  softly  on. 

As  soon  as  the  tent  was  pitched  it  gave  a 
homelike  look  to  the  scene,  which  was  one  of  a 
solitude  to  half  appall  Don,  wholly  inexperienced 
as  he  was. 

A  "  camp  "  can  be  made  with  great  jovialty 
early  in  the  day;  but  night  is  a  homesick  time 
to  boys,  when  they  find  themselves  in  strange 
and  novel  surroundings.  Nothing  so  enlivens 
and  cheers  however,  as  a  brisk  fire  ;  and  it  was 
not  long  before  they  had  a  glorious  heap  of  logs 
crackling  and  roaring  in  front  of  the  tent. 

All  were  hungry,  and  a  coffee-pot  was  soon 
steaming,  and  the  lunch  was  brought  out.  It 
was  too  late  to  cook  much  of  a  supper.  One  of 


TJie  Experiment.  135 

the  party  chopped  some  additional  fire-wood  for 
the  night,  and  the  sound  of  the  axe  woke  a 
mysterious  and  suggestive  echo  across  the  dusky 
water. 

The  guide  Mr.  Lawrence  had  engaged,  as  gen- 
eral factotum,  was  a  man  of  tall  stature  and 
brawny  muscle,  called  "  Big  Dave."  No  better 
hunter,  fisher  or  trapper  could  be  found  in  all 
that  region,  and  he  was  in  his  element  in  camp, 
full  of  expedients  and  experience.  The  adjust- 
ment of  everything  fell  upon  him,  and  he  super- 
vised even  the  coffee,  which  Mr.  Lawrence  had 
undertaken  to  make. 

A  hungry  party  it  was  that  sat  round  in  the 
glow  of  the  fire  to  eat  the  first  meal  in  camp. 
And  hunger  is  very  necessary  at  such  a  feast, 
lest  squeamishness  preside.  Cinders  are  apt  to 
fall  into  the  kettles  ;  and  the  true  camp  flavor  to 
every  delicacy  is  smoke. 

"  Oh,  how  tired  and  lame  Don  was,  as,  supper 
finished,  he  stretched  himself  upon  the  robes 
in  the  tent,  and  felt  the  genial  warmth  of  the 
fire  both  soothe  and  rest  him. 

It  had  grown  cool  enough  to  make  warmth 


136  Heart's  Content. 

welcome  ;  and  besides,  Don  felt  a  greater  se- 
curity at  having  so  fine  a  blaze,  as  he  had  read 
that  wild  animals  shun  a  fire  in  the  woods.  Big 
Dave  attended  to  getting  all  the  odds  and  ends 
of  camp  in  proper  shape,  ready  against  possible 
winds  or  sudden  summer  showers. 

Then  he  fastened  back  the  canvass  doors  of 
their  house,  to  let  the  fire-light  flood  all  within ; 
drew  out  of  his  pocket  his  pipe,  and  flinging 
himself  upon  the  ground  near  by,  began  smok- 
ing meditatively. 

The  way  he  lighted  his  pipe,  was  to  poise  a 
live  coal  upon  it ;  and  he  was  a  fine  specimen  of 
a  backwoodsman,  as  he  lay  at  full  length,  tanned 
and  huge,  and  slovenly. 

Just  then  they  heard  a  great  crashing. and 
crackling  in  the  bushes  near  the  lake,  a  few  rods 
from  camp,  and  Don  sprang  up,  involuntarily, 
and  said,  under  his  breath,  "  Bears !  " 

"  I  s'pose  so !  "  said  Dave,  with  a  wink,  and 
without  chowing  the  slightest  concern.  Don's 
eagerness  made  a  laugh  in  the  tent,  at  which 
he  blusLed  fiercely. 

To  cover  his  embarrassment,  he  said : 


The  Experiment.  137 

"  Tell  us  a  bear-story,  won't  you,  sir?  Were 
there  ever  any  bears  near  here  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  drawled  Dave,  deliberately.  "  Plenty 
of  them." 

41  Are  there  any  now?"  pursued  Don,  not 
without  some  apprehension. 

"  Now  and  then  one,"  answered  the  taciturn 
smoker. 

"  Oh,  please  tell  us  a  bear-story,"  persisted 
Don,  forgetting  how  tired  he  was,  and  stimu- 
lated by  the  outer  darkness  and  the  inner 
cosiness. 

"Do  you  see  that  'roll-way,'  yonder?  "said 
Dave,  pointing  with  his  fingers  toward  a  bit  of 
land  that  jutted  dimly  out  into  the  lake,  at 
some  distance  from  camp.  A  stretch  of  white, 
sandy  beach,  it  looked  in  the  hovering  shadow, 
and  they  could  imagine  it,  rather  than  see  it. 

"  The  shore  at  that  point  is  very  steep  —  some 
twenty-five  or  thirty  feet,"  Dave  went  on  to  say. 
"  What  has  the  appearance  of  a  road  is,  in  fact 
a  lumberman's  'roll-way,'  or  the  place  where 
the  pine  logs,  cut  from  the  land  above,  were 
carried  on  sleds  in  winter,  and  dumped  over 
the  bank  on  to  the  ice  of  the  lake.  When  the 


138  Heart's  Content. 

ice  melted  in  spring,  they  were  taken  across 
the  lake  in  rafts,  to  the  mills.  The  plunging 
of  the  logs  down  the  steep  bank  has  destroyed 
the  low  bushes  and  grass,  which  once  grew 
there,  leaving  but  a  barren  track  of  sand." 

He  stopped  to  knock  the  ashes  from  his  pipe. 

"  Well,  I  had  a  strange  bear-hunt  there  a  few 
years  ago.  Two  gentlemen  were  up  from  the 
city,  and  were  anxious  to  get  a  crack  at  a  deer. 
They  hired  me  for  a  guide.  The  season  is 
rather  early  here,  and  I  was  anxious  to  reach 
the  stamping  ground  before  the  deer  left  for  the 
river,  south ;  as  it  would  save  a  long  tramp,  and 
a  good  many  nights  in  the  woods. 

"  Well,  we  made  camp  just  at  sundown,  the 
first  day  out,  at  the  foot  of  a  big  pine  at  the  top 
of  that '  roll-way,'  yonder.  It  wasn't  much  to 
make  camp,  for  we  had  just  our  blankets  and 
camp  kettles.  We  '  marched  light,'  as  we  used 
to  say  in  the  army. 

"  I  went  down  the  '  roll- way '  to  get  some 
pitch  pine  from  a  stump  that  stood  near  the 
water's  edge,  while  the  two  men  sat  at  the  top. 
on  a  log,  to  smoke. 


TJie  Experiment.  13S 

*'  I  had  a  light  axe  in  my  hand.  I  never  go 
into  the  woods  without  an  axe,  for  they  are 
mighty  handy,  in  more  ways  than  one.  It  was 
getting  well  along  towards  dusk,  and  I  couldn't 
see  very  far,  especially  as  the  bushes  were 
thick.  Still,  looking  down  at  the  ground,  one 
could  see  ten  feet,  or  more,  before  his  nose  — 
plain  enough  to  see  a  stump  from  a  bear,  even 
if  the  animal  kept  still. 

"  Just  before  I  reached  the  pine  stump,  I  gave 
a  light  spring  over  a  log  that  had  lodged ;  and 
this  naturally  made  considerable  noise.  I  don't 
usually  make  much  of  a  racket  going  through 
the  brush;  as  one  has  to  keep  pretty  still  when 
he  is  after  game. 

"  The  minute  I  struck  on  my  feet,  the  bushes 
ahead  of  me  stirred,  as  if  there  was  something 
there. 

"I  thought  it  might  be  a  hedge-hog,  and 
so  I  heaved  a  bit  of  wood  over  among  the 
brush.  In  less  than  a  wink,  a  bear  rose  right 
up  on  his  hind  legs  and  faced  me  !  He  was  not 
ten  feet  away. 

"Talk  about  bears  fighting;  but  my  expert 


140  Heart's    Content. 

ence  is,  there  isn't  an  animal  in  the  world,  more 
anxious  to  get  away  from  a  man  than  a  bear  is, 
when  you  take  him  by  surprise  ;  unless  you 
happen  to  wound  him  first.  Then  he  is  all 


"I  saw  at  a  glance  that  this  bear  didn't  intend 
to  stay,  unless  I  urged  him  to.  So  I  started 
for  him,  just  as  he  made  a  lunge  up  the  *  roll- 
way.'  The  '  roll-way,'  is  loose,  white  sand,  and 
the  hardest  kind  of  a  hill  to  climb,  for  bear  or 
man  ;  for  it  is  almost  as  straight  up  and  down 
as  the  inside  of  that  iron  kettle. 

"  The  bear  started  up  the  hill,  as  I  said,  and 
I  made  a  flying  leap  after  him  ;  swinging  my 
axe  with  all  my  might,  intending  to  hit  him 
somewhere,  and  hoping  to  stop  him,  until  the 
men  at  the  camp  could  get  some  hint  that  he 
was  coming.  I  felt  the  axe  strike  him,  and  I 
hung  -on  to  the  helve  with  both  hands,  and 
called  for  help. 

"  I  never  was  on  the  desert,  but  I've  heard 
tell  of  the  sand  storms  they  have  there.  Well, 
I  guess  we  made  the  sand  fly,  about  as  bad  as 
ever  it  blew  on  the  desert.  The  bear  tried  to 


The  Experiment.  141 

get  on  to  his  hind  legs  to  grapple  with  me  ;  but 
the  axe  had  caught  just  one  side  of  his  back 
bone  —  a  little  forward  of  the  hips  —  and  the 
more  he  plunged,  the  tighter  it  seemed  to  bury 
itself.  It  grew  exciting. 

"  Whenever  he  turned,  I  turned  with  him, 
and  when  he  stood  up  in  the  slippery  sand,  I 
dragged  him  through  it  as  easy  as  I  would  have 
drawn  a  cat.  Then  he  began  to  try  to  climb 
the  hill,  which  was  better  than  if  he  had  gone 
towards  the  lake.  I  hung  on  to  my  axe. 

"  The  men  at  the  top  of  the  hill  had  heard 
the  noise,  and  were  out  with  their  guns;  but 
they  did  not  dare  to  shoot,  for  fear  of  killing 
me.  It  was  a  dreadful  struggle  ;  and  jnst  as  I 
felt  I  must  let  go,  the  bear  gave  a  terrible  lurch 
forward,  and  actually  dragged  me  up  the  bank  I 

"  Right  at  the  top  of  the  '  roll-way  '  was  a  log 
that  had  been  stuck  there  for  some  purpose  by 
lumbermen.  I  had  presence  of  mind  enough 
to  see  that  the  bear  would  have  to  climb  over 
that  log. 

"  I  shouted  to  the  men  to  get  their  axes,  and 
to  wait ;  and  they  were  quick  to  see  the  chance 


142  Heart's   Content. 

to  help  me.  They  posted  themselves  at  the 
upper  side  of  the  log,  and  waited  till  old  Bruin 
raised  himself  with  his  fore-legs  on  it.  Then 
with  blows  they  quickly  stunned  him.  They 
struck  hard  and  sharp  with  the  backs  of  their 
axes,  and  before  long  we  had  the  advantage,  and 
he  slid  like  a  great  lump  down  the  *  roll-way,' 
where  we  followed  to  be  sure  he  was  dead." 

Don  had  listened  with  open-mouthed  interest 
to  the  story,  and  only  realized  that  it  was  done, 
when  Dave  gave  a  quiet  langh,  and  said  "  rather 
a  queer  way  to  hunt  a  bear,  eh  ? "  Then  he 
knocked  the  ashes  from  his  pipe  on  the  sole  of 
his  boot. 

Don  drew  a  long  breath,  and  Mr.  Lawrence 
suggested  that  it  was  bed-time  for  those  who 
expected  to  take  an  early  stroll  in  the  morning. 

Hemlock  boughs  had  been  strewn  on  the  floor 
of  the  tent,  and  over  these  they  spread  robes 
and  blankets.  Then,  after  the  fire  had  been 
secured,  they  turned  in  for  the  night. 

It  was  a  long  time,  however,  before  Don 
could  sleep.  He  heard  strange  solitary  sounds 
in  the  forest  outside  —  the  lonesome  hooting  of 


The  Experiment.  143 

owls,  and  the  wind  through  the  high  pines  ;  and 
though  very  tired,  his  eyes  were  wide  open  long 
after  the  rest  slept. 

But  at  length  —  when,  he  never  knew,  it  was 
with  such  imperceptible  step  —  sleep  came. 


CHAPTER  X. 

DON'S  LUCK. 

"  Oh,  the  gallant  fisher's  life, 

It  is  the  best  of  any ! 
'Tis  full  of  pleasure,  void  of  strife , 
And  'tis  beloved  of  many. 
In  a  brook, 
With  a  hook 
Fish  we  take ; 
There  we  sit 
For  a  bit 
Till  we  fish  entangle 

Sit  we  still  — 
Watch  our  quill, 
Fishers  must  not  wrangle," 

DON  was  the  first  one  of  the  camping  party 
to  awake  next  morning. 

He  had  had  far  less  sleep  than  usual,  but  he 
was  alert  and  ready.     When  he  quietly  crawled 
out  from  beneath  the  blankets,  and  cautiously 
M4 


Don's  Luck,  145 

raised  the  "  door  "  of  the  tent,  the  clearness  of 
the  day  surprised  him.  The  sun  was  not  yet 
up,  but  a  light,  soft  and  subdued,  filled  the  sky. 
The  woods  in  which  they  camped  were,  like 
pine  forests  generally,  almost  barren  of  birds, 
and  over  Don's  head  a  stillness,  solemn,  and 
almost  oppressive,  reigned. 

A  partridge,  startled  by  the  sudden  appear- 
ance of  a  human  being,  whirred  suddenly  away 
from  Don's  feet,  when  he  had  got  only  a  few 
steps  from  the  tent.  Another,  and  then  another^ 
alarmed  at  the  flight  of  the  first,  rose  as  if  by 
magic,  and  skimmed  away,  with  a  rapid  throb- 
bing of  wings,  until  fully  a  dozen  had  risen. 

Oh,  for  his  gun  !  Don  thought.  But  the  gun 
was  still  in  its  case,  and  stowed  away  he  did  not 
know  where. 

He  strolled  down  to  the  water  in  the  morning 
twilight.  He  had  never  seen  anything  so  still, 
so  lonely.  The  lake  was  like  a  sheet  of  silver, 
just  tinted  with  rose  color  where  the  coming  sun 
flushed  the  sky,  and  the  water  gave  back  a  re- 
flection. It  seemed  to  Don  he  had  been  away 
from  home  weeks. 

Presently  he  heard  sounds  up  at  the  camp, 


146  Heart's  Content. 

and  looking  back,  he  saw  stalwart  Dave  lighting 
the  fire  for  breakfast,  and  stirring  up  things  gen- 
erally. He  had  seemed  a  great  hero  in  Don's 
eyes  the  night  before,  notwithstanding  his  buck- 
wood's  dialect,  and  his  uncouth  dress  and  bear- 
ing. But  now  he  looked  very  huge  and  blowsy , 
and  hardly  heroic  enough  to  win  a  rather  fas- 
tidious boy's  homage. 

The  whole  camp  was  astir.  There  were  six 
in  the  party,  including  Don  and  Dave  —  three 
gentlemen  besides  Mr.  Lawrence.  All  gave  aid 
about  the  breakfast,  for  they  were  anxious  to 
get  at  their  sport,  and  it  was  not  long  before  a 
loud  halloo  called  Don  to  join  them. 

Almost  as  hungry  as  he  had  been  the  night 
before,  he  found  everything  very  palatable. 
There  was  something  of  a  smoky  taste,  it  is  true, 
but  he  did  not  mind.  He  listened  with  eager- 
ness to  the  day's  plans. 

Their  camp  equipments  consisted  of  two  boats 
and  all  their  appliances,  besides  the  food  and 
shelter. 

These  boats  had  been  built  after  one  of  Mr. 
Lawrence's  own  models,  and  were  very  service- 
able and  complete.  It  was  his  custom  to  leave 


Don's  Luck.  147 

them  each  season  at  the  last  railway  station  they 
had  left,  with  all  the  other  bulky  equipments. 
Now  their  first  work  was  to  get  them  into  the 
water. 

Mr.  Lawrence,  Don,  and  Dave  were  to  go  in 
one  boat ;  the  three  gentlemen  in  the  other.  It 
was  a  gay  moment  when  the  signal  was  given, 
and  both  parties  pushed  off. 

The  season  was  too  far  advanced  for  good 
"  still  fishing,"  that  is,  fishing  with  the  boat  an- 
chored off  a  bluff  shore  ;  but  "  trolling  "  was 
just  in  order.  It  was  so  arranged  that  the  party 
in  the  first  boat  were  to  change  about,  each 
taking  his  turn  at  the  oars,  and  each  at  the 
trolling  line. 

But  in  Mr.  Lawrence's  boat  Dave  was  to  row, 
leaving  Don  and  his  father  free  to  "  fish  "  all  the 
time. 

Mr.  Lawrence  stationed  Don  in  the  stern  of 
the  boat,  and  took  a  seat  in  the  bow  himself. 
This  was  the  post  of  honor  for  Don,  and  he  felt 
nerved  to  great  prowess  as  he  let  the  spoon- 
hook  over  the  side  of  the  boat  into  the  water, 
and  saw  it  skip  and  skim  as  Dave  pulled  pow- 
erfully at  the  oars. 


148  Heart's  Content. 

From  among  a  large  number  of  trolling  hooks, 
Mr.  Lawrence  selected  a  small  bright  bait, 
especially  adapted  to  allure  bass.  Fastening 
this  securely  to  his  line,  he  cast  it  from  him 
with  a  sweep  of  the  sensitive  rod,  and  let  the 
reel  play,  as  the  boat  moved  through  the  water, 
until  nearly  two  hundred  feet  of  the  line  had  run 
out. 

Holding  his  rod  firmly  at  right  angles  with  the 
boat,  his  line  trailed  astern  several  feet  from  the 
heavier  line  which  Don  held.  Don  had  already 
let  out  more  than  fifty  yards  of  line,  and  was 
attentively  holding  his  arm  ready  to  answer  in- 
stantly any  summons  from  the  flashing  hook. 
The  constant  flutter  of  the  spoon  communicated 
a  throbbing  sensation  to  his  hand  that  aroused 
his  nerves  to  keenest  tension. 

He  lost  nothing  of  the  scene  before  him.  The 
water  was  pleasantly  rippled ;  the  dancing  waves 
kept  ever  coming  toward  him,  lapping  each 
other,  but  made  no  onward  progress.  Don 
almost  fell  into  a  reverie  —  the  very  last  thing  a 
fisherman  should  do. 

The  receding  shore,  the  "  roll-way  "  made  mem- 
orable by  the  story  of  the  bear  hunt  the  night 


Don's  Luck.  149 

before,  but  now  robbed  of  half  its  interest  by 
the  bright  sunlight  falling  on  it ;  the  glistening 
tent,  which  grew  whiter  as  they  moved  from  it ; 
the  curling  smoke  and  vapory  steam  from  the 
saw-mill  hidden  behind  a  projecting  point  of 
land  ;  the  constantly  changing  stretch  of  shore 
as  the  boat  moved,  presenting  an  ever-varying 
line  of  vision  ;  the  novelty  of  the  situation,  arid 
the  yet  vague  realization  that  this  was  really  the 
long-talked  of  excursion,  all  combined  to  make 
him  forget  himself,  and  forget  why  he  sat  there 
holding  that  line. 

In  the  midst  of  the  silence,  an  electric  thrill 
flashed  through  his  whole  system.  He  had  had 
a  "  strike."  It  was  like  being  suddenly  waked 
from  a  sound  sleep,  and  he  glanced  involuntarily 
at  the  guide,  ashamed  that  his  good  fortune 
should  have  surprised  him  instead  of  finding  him 
ready.  Dave  had  noticed  nothing. 

Don  braced  every  nerve  for  a  second  spring  of 
the  fish,  which  he  felt  sure  would  soon  come ; 
nor  had  he  long  to  wait. 

A  straightening  of  the  dragging  line,  a  sudden 
wrench  at  his  finger,  a  steady  and  strong  hauling 


150  Heart's  Content. 

in,  and  Don  knew  that  his  first  "  strike  "  was 
hooked. 

Dave's  eyes  were  wide  enough,  now.  No  need 
for  Don's  crying  out : 

"  I've  hooked  him  !  " 

"  Pull  steadily,  Don,  and  don't  let  him  get  a 
slack  line,"  quietly  cautioned  Mr.  Lawrence. 

The  guide  gave  the  boat  just  a  trifle  of  extra 
impetus,  with  a  few  well-pulled  strokes  of  the 
oars,  as  Don  drew  in  the  line,  hand  over  hand, 
with  a  regular,  swinging  motion  that  both  sur- 
prised and  amused  the  older  fishermen. 

It  seemed  as  if  the  line  would  never  end ;  but 
aching  arms  must  not  be  considered  now.  Yard 
after  yard  of  the  wet  coil  fell  within  the  boat 
but  still  no  fish  appeared  in  sight. 

At  last,  far  astern,  a  splashing  of  the  waves,  a 
tugging  at  the  line,  and  a  fine  black  bass  leaped 
high  out  of  the  water,  with  red  mouth  wide 
open,  and  fins  extended  to  their  utmost ! 

Down  it  suddenly  went  again,  and,  darting 
with  lightning  rapidity  towards  the  boat,  at- 
tempted to  gain  a  bit  of  slack. 

Don  did  not  need  instructions  then.  With  all 
his  boyish  might  he  pulled  at  th3  falling  line, 


Don's  Luck.  151 

until  he  felt  the  captive  drawn  through  the 
water  again.  Now  the  fish  was  near  the  boat ! 
It  darted  under  the  stern,  and  drew  the  line 
with  a  swish  through  Don's  dripping  hands. 
Now  here,  now  away,  this  side,  that  side,  in  fran- 
tic efforts  to  escape  ! 

But  Don  steadily  drew  the  line  upward,  until, 
at  length,  he  lifted  his  struggling  game  with  a 
dexterous  movement  over  the  gunwale  of  the 
boat,  and  threw  it  gasping  at  the  guide's  feet. 

"  Well  done,  Don  !  "  cried  Mr.  Lawrence ;  and 
Dave  forced  a  taciturn  smile,  and  said : 

"  That  looks  as  if  you  knew  something  about 
a  fish-line,  my  boy." 

After  Don  had  taken  his  bass,  Mr.  Lawrence 
proposed  to  row  across  the  lake  to  a  place  called 
"  Pickerel  Point,"  so  named  because  of  the  size 
and  numbers  of  pickerel  taken  there.  This  spot 
was  near  the  south  end  of  the  lake.  A  basin 
was  formed  there  by  a  projecting  point,  giving 
almost  a  uniform  depth  of  some  twenty  feet  of 
water.  Pickerel  and  muskallonge  made  this 
basin  their  home,  finding  suitable  food  and  agree- 
able retreats  in  the  vegetable  formation  at  the 
bottom  of  the  lake. 


152  Heart's  Content. 

No  sooner  had  the  boat  been  rounded  to,  off 
the  point,  describing  a  wide  circle,  and  allowing 
Don's  heavy  line  to  sink  well  towards  the  weeds, 
than  he  felt  such  a  powerful  pull  at  his  hook  as 
to  bring  him  instantly  to  his  feet.  His  first 
thought  was  that  his  line  had  become  entangled 
with  some  sunken  log  or  bush;  but  a  steady 
pressure,  followed  by  a  half  dozen  jerks  at  the 
hook  convinced  him  of  his  mistake. 

He  had  -  out  only  about  an  hundred  feet  of 
line  ;  but  as  they  were  about  making  the  curve, 
it  described  a  half  circle,  instead  of  being 
directly  astern.  It  gave  a  taut,  swisling  sound, 
as  it  was  straightened  by  some  force  at  the  other 
end,  into  a  direct  line.  An  unusual  strength 
resisted  the  hauling  in ;  there  was  a  downward 
motion  at  the  far  end  of  the  tense  cord.  These 
were  like  revelations  to  Don.  He  had  his  first 
large  fish ! 

"  You've  got  a  muskallonge  !  "  cried  the  guide, 
giving  a  steady  pull  at  the  oars.  It  was  the 
first  time  Don  has  seen  him  rouse  from  that 
watchful  phlegm  into  anything  like  excitement. 

"  Keep  up  your  line,"  he  added,  "  but  don't  be 
in  a  hurry  about  getting  him  in." 


Don's  Luck.  153 

Mr.  Lawrence  rapidly  reeled  in  his  own  line, 
to  prevent  its  becoming  entangled  with  Don's ; 
and  stood  ready,  with  gaff  hook  in  hand,  to  aid 
in  the  final  capture. 

By  this  time  there  was  no  doubt  as  to  the 
kind  and  size  of  the  fish.  Old  fishermen  know 
that  the  muskallonge  "  works  "  exactly  contrary 
to  the  black  bass.  While  the  latter  rushes  for- 
ward the  instant  it  realizes  its  own  danger,  and 
flings  itself  clear  of  the  water,  shaking  itself 
violently,  with  extended  fins  and  open  mouth, 
the  muskallonge,  when  it  is  first  hooked,  dives 
sullenly  towards  the  bottom,  and  merely  offers 
the  resistance  of  its  own  weight.  As  it  is 
dragged  forward,  it  seems  to  stand  head  down- 
ward, waving  its  long  body  to  and  fro.  But  the 
instant  the  boat  comes  within  its  sight,  it  shows 
the  fiercest  eagerness  to  escape.  It  has  none  of 
the  gamy  qualities  of  the  bass,  but  a  "  big  "  fish 
makes  up  in  strength  all  other  deficiencies. 
The  struggle  lasts  several  minutes,  or  until  the 
poor  creature  becomes  aware  of  its  captivity. 
Then  it  rises  to  the  surface  of  the  water,  at  the 
side  of  the  boat,  if  the  line  has  been  prop- 


154  Heart's  Content. 

erly  handled,  and  the  final  capture  is  easily 
accomplished. 

If  the  sportsman  is  but  an  amateur,  however, 
the  fish  is  very  likely  to  escape  at  the  last 
moment.  This  may  be  either  when  the  gaff  is 
brought  into  play,  or  when  the  troller  makes  an 
effort  to  get  his  game  over  the  side  of  the  boat 
unaided.  Much  depends  upon  the  position, 
which  should  be  either  parallel  with  the  boat,  or 
with  head  towards  it.  Many  sportsmen  prefer 
not  to  use  the  gaff,  but  to  manage  the  capture 
without  it. 

Don  was  of  this  opinion;  and  moreover  did 
not  wish  the  interference  of  any  third  party. 
He  was  as  cool  as  a  veteran.  He  waited  until 
his  prize  was  close  at  hand ;  then  slowly  reach- 
ing over  the  boat's  edge,  he  grasped  the  line 
near  the  trolling-hook,  and,  a  second  later,  a  fif- 
teen pound  muskallonge  was  floundering  in  the 
bottom  of  the  boat.  His  boyish  strength  had 
been  taxed  to  the  uttermost  to  get  it  in.  Dave 
despatched  it  in  scientific  fashion,  which  fairly 
made  Don  shudder. 

He  only  said,  turning  to  his  father : 


Don's  Luck.  155 

"Little  Jane  would  cry  herself  sick  to  see 
that." 

Don  was  very  much  elated,  but  wore  a  great 
show  of  indifference.  He  let  out  his  line  again, 
with  all  the  sangfroid  of  success,  as  if  it  were  a 
very  easy  thing  to  take  in  such  a  fish  as  that. 
In  fact,  there  was  something  like  swagger  in 
his  manner,  and  he  was  neither  so  attentive 
nor  precise  as  he  had  been  before. 

Hardly  had  ten  yards  of  his  line  been  let 
out,  before  he  felt  another  "strike."  He  was 
not  expecting  it,  and  to  all  appearances  it  was 
as  large  as  the  other.  He  lost  presence  of 
mind ;  and,  wildly  pulling  in  his  line,  dragged 
his  prey  to  the  boat  in  the  most  unscientific 
fashion.  Before  Mr.  Lawrence  could  give  a 
word  of  protest  or  advice,  he  had  swung  the 
untired  fish  clear  of  the  water  and  over  the  gun- 
wale, by  main  strength ;  in  doing  this,  he  failed 
to  keep  it  clear  of  the  side  of  the  boat. 

With  a  contortion  of  the  body  that  is  peculiar 
to  this  fish,  it  threw  itself  clear  off  the  hook, 
and  fell  — fortunately  for  him,  not  back  into 
the  water,  but  directly  across  the  seat  in  front 


156  Heart's   Content. 

of  him ;  with  its  head  dropped  down  almost  to 
the  water's  edge,  and  snapping  its  jaws  in  most 
savage  style. 

It  was  a  dreadful  moment  to  Don.  He  saw 
that  the  fish  was  loose  ;  and,  without  a  moment's 
hesitation,  he  threw  himself  upon  it,  clasped  his 
arms  tightly  about  it,  and  gasped,  "  Dave  !  " 

Mr.  Lawrence  could  offer  no  help  from  laugh- 
ing; but  Dave  came  to  the  rescue.  He  des- 
patched the  formidable  creature  with  the  gaff- 
hook  ;  and  Don  was  at  liberty  to  scan  his  most 
unscientific  capture. 

"  That's  equal  to  my  bear  hunt,  Don,"  said 
Dave,  surveying  the  huge  fish,  with  no  little 
pride. 

"  Don,"  said  Mr.  Lawrence,  "  you  made  up 
for  your  lack  of  skill  with  what,  if  it  had  been 
Mars  in  your  place,  you  would  have  called  *  red- 
headed grit.'  I  can't  say  I  admire  your  style 
of  doing  work,  considering  the  condition  of 
3-0 ur  jacket,  but  the  result  is  pretty  fair  "  — 
looking  with  the  greatest  satisfaction  at  Don's 
really  very  remarkable  prowess,  lying  at  their 
feet. 


Don's  Luck.  157 

Don  was  covered  with  slime  and  wet,  and  was 
all  out  of  breath. 

"  I  lost  my  balance,  ja  little,"  he  said  ashamed, 
and  yet  proud  at  the  same  time. 

It  must  not  be  inferred  because  we  have 
spoken  particularly  of  Don's  successes,  that  he 
was  the  only  fortunate  member  of  the  party. 
The  record  for  the  day's  sport,  was  a  very  fine 
one,  at  all  hands.  Nor  shall  we  chronicle  each 
capture;  for,  though  to  the  fisherman  himself, 
each  effort,  and  each  success  or  disappointment 
has  its  own  special  features  of  interest,  yet  it 
might  not  prove  as  absorbing  to  the  mere  reader. 

The  day  ended  round  another  camp-fire,  with 
more  stories,  and  with  an  early  turning  in. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

ANOTHEB   PHASE. 

'•  Suddenly  all  the  sky  is  hid 
As  with  the  shutting  of  a  lid, 
One  by  one,  great  drops  are  falling, 
Doubtful  and  slow," 

THE  next  morning  was  a  sultry  one,  with  a 
blazing  sun,  and  without  a  breeze.  The 
previous  day's  exertions  had  tired  Don  to  the 
minutest  fibre  of  his  body.  The  bed  of  hem- 
lock boughs  either  had  been  poorly  made,  or 
was,  in  reality,  little  softer  than  the  ground  ;  or 
else  it  was  weariness  that  made  every  bone  in 
his  whole  body  to  ache,  for  he  turned  and 
tossed  nearly  the  whole  night  through.  Mus- 
quitoes  hummed  in  his  ears;  his  hands  were 
swollen  and  smarting  from  his  reckless  and 
I58 


Another   Phase.  159 

unused  handling  of  his  line,  and  from  various 
braises  and  cuts ;  and,  oh  his  back,  his  aching 
back  ! 

Towards  morning,  he  grew  more  quiet,  and 
drifted  off  into  a  deep  slumber,  out  of  whose 
depths  he  fished  imaginarj7'  bass  and  inuskal- 
longe  of  great  size  and  in  great  numbers.  This 
sleep,  however,  brought  him  little  rest,  and  was 
very  brief;  for  day-break  shone  early  through 
the  white  walls  of  the  tent. 

It  seemed  to  grow  morning  even  before  it  was 
midnight ;  and  when  the  camp  was  really  roused, 
and  getting  up  was  a  foregone  conclusion,  Don 
would  have  given  up  all  further  fishing  and 
camping  forever,  if  it  had  been  possible,  for  one 
good  hour's  sleep  in  his  own  bed  at  home. 

"  Lie  still  a  little  longer,  Don,"  Mr.  Lawrence 
said,  as  having  dressed  himself,  he  went  out. 
"  Breakfast  isn't  ready  yet,  and  when  we  want 
you,  we  will  call  you." 

He  drew  the  door  of  the  tent  together  after 
him,  and  as  all  the  rest  were  out,  Don  folded  the 
outspread  robes  together  in  a  great  soft  pile,  one 
upon  another,  so  that  they  should  wholly  deaden 
the  boughs  underneath,  and,  lying  down  upon 


160  Heart's    Content. 

them,  dropped  asleep  in  a  most  deliciously  rest- 
ful fashion.  He  was  sole  proprietor  of  all  the 
room  and  of  all  the  comfort. 

The  light  110  longer  dazzled  and  troubled  him 
—  he  did  not  see  it ;  musquitoes  no  longer  sung 
whining  tunes  in  his  ears  —  or  at  least,  he  did 
not  hear  them  ;  the  fragrant  coffee  boiling  upon 
a  crotched  stick  over  the  fire  outside,  did  not 
tempt  him ;  the  sputtering  and  browning  of  his 
own  fine  bass  in  a  pan  of  butter  over  the  coals, 
did  not  stimulate  him  to  hunger.  He  knew 
nothing  of  it  all.  Only  to  sleep  —  oh,  how 
sweet,  how  restful  it  was  ! 

When  he  woke  he  was  wholly  bewildered  and 
lost.  Only  his  eyes  seemed  to  wake  ;  for  he  lay 
perfectly  still  in  that  comfortable  indolence 
which  is  the  border-land  between  dreaming  and 
reality. 

It  seemed  to  him  that  it  was  high  noon  — 
broad,  dazzling,  hot,  still.  He  was  drenched 
with  perspiration,  and  his  face  was  flushed.  But 
he  felt  rested. 

He  listened,  but  did  not  hear  a  sound,  except 
a  low  stir  or  murmur  in  the  pines  outside.  He 
did  not  start  up  with  enthusiasm,  as  he  had  done 


Another  Phase.  161 

the  morning  before ;  but  be  lay,  idly  wondering 
where  the  rest  were,  and  what  time  it  could  be. 

After  much  preliminary  stretching,  he  finally 
went  out.  Nobody  was  to  be  seen.  All  was  as 
hushed  as  if  no  mortal  had  ever  stood  upon  that 
shore,  but  himself. 

He  begun  to  be  disturbed.  He  wondered 
why  his  father  had  not  called  him  to  breakfast ; 
and  he  did  not  altogether  like  being  left  there 
alone. 

Just  then  he  spied  upon  a  stump  near  the  tent 
a  little  upright  stick,  split  at  one  end,  while  the 
other  was  crowded  into  a  crevice  of  the  decayed 
wood,  so  as  to  hold  it  in  place.  In  the  split  end 
was  a  folded  bit  of  paper. 

Don  laughed.  "  A  funny  post-office,"  he  said 
to  himself,  as  he  took  it  out.  On  it  was  writ- 
ten :  "  We  shall  be  fishing  just  round  the  cape, 
and  in  sight  of  the  point  where  wo  go  for  water. 
Have  a  fire  going  for  us  when  we  come  in  at 
noon." 

Mr.  Lawrence  had  not  had  the  heart  to  wake 
Don,  when  breakfast  was  ready ;  he  knew  that 
he  would  sleep  late,  if  undisturbed,  and  he 
needed  the  sleep.  He  argued  rightly  that  if  lie 


162  Heart's   Content. 

indicated  in  his  note  that  Don  was  left  in  charge 
of  the  camp,  he  would  feel  placed  upon  his  man- 
liness and  courage,  and  would  not  be  afraid. 
He  had  felt  inclined  to  add,  "  don't  have  any 
fear,"  but  he  wanted  to  cultivate  Don's  self-reli- 
ance, and,  moreover,  did  not  wish  to  imply  that 
there  was  any  reason  why  he  should  feel  timid. 
But  to  tell  him  from  what  point  he  could  see  the 
fishing  party  would  answer  every  purpose  of 
reassurance. 

He  was  right.  Even  in  sight  of  the  "  roll- 
way,"  where  there  had  been  killed  a  veritable 
bear,  Don  felt  as  brave  as  an  Indian.  He  was 
put  upon  his  mettle,  and  he  could  not  flinch. 

He  was  still  very  sore  and  lame,  and  felt  as  if 
a  bath  would  be  the  most  comforting  of  healers. 
He  went  down  to  the  lake,  where  he  splashed 
about  like  a  duck ;  and  when  his  bath  was  com- 
pleted,  arranged  his  hair,  in  the  romantic  fashion 
of  the  red  maiden,  over  the  fern-framed  mirror 
of  a  little  brook,  that  crept  away  from  the  cool 
spring  where  they  drew  their  water  for  drinking, 
and  gurgled  noisily  along  until  it  emptied  into 
the  lake." 

Coming  back   to   the   tent,  he   found   where 


Another   Phase.  163 

Dave  had  left,  under  a  pan,  a  nice  plate  of  break- 
fast for  him.  This  he  ate  without  leaving  a 
crumb.  The  fried  fish  was  excellent;  the 
crisped  potatoes  seasoned  capitally;  the  bread 
and  butter  very  good  —  all  considerably  mussy 
to  be  sure,  and  he  could  not  find  a  napkin  — 
and  everything  as  nice,  he  thought,  as  he  had 
ever  tasted. 

This  done,  he  put  the  tent  in  order,  placed  a 
few  sticks  on  the  smouldering  fire  so  that  it  need 
not  go  entirely  out,  and  then  set  about  amusing 
himself. 

It  was  very  much  like  Robinson  Crusoe  alone 
on  the  island.  This  was  decidedly  more  heroic 
than  anything  that  had  happened.  How  brave 
he  felt,  and  how  rested,  and  how  good  it  was  to 
be  rested ! 

Don  had  been  more  utterly  exhausted  than  he 
could  understand,  with  the  stirring  incidents  and 
excitements  of  the  previous  day ;  and  that  last 
morning  "  wink  "  —  as  he  called  it  —  had  made 
him  feel  like  a  boy  again,  and  not  like  an  old 
man,  as  he  had  felt  the  night  before. 

He  got  his  gun  —  he  had  not  thought  of  it 


164  Heart's  Content. 

before.  He  thought  he  would  stroll  through 
the  woods  a  little  way,  to  see  if  he  could  find  a 
squirrel  or  some  partridges. 

It  was  intensely  hot.  The  woods  were  breath- 
less and  silent,  except  a  certain  movement  and 
moan  that  seems  to  flow  through  pine  trees,  even 
when  there  is  no  wind.  It  was  like  a  distant 
surf — an  echo  of  sound,  rather  than  a  sound 
itself. 

But  before  he  went  into  the  woods,  Don 
thought  he  would  go  to  the  rocky  point  of  which 
his  father's  note  had  spoken,  and  see  if  he  could 
see  the  boats.  The  glare  of  the  water  was  like 
burnished  metal,  and  he  was  glad  to  keep  as 
much  as  possible  in  the  shadows  of  the  trees. 

Reaching  the  point,  he  could  see  the  two  boats, 
looking  as  if  hung  in  mid-air.  They  were  a  long 
way  off,  and  nothing  could  be  distinguished  in 
them.  The  men  were  evidently  still-fishing,  and 
not  trolling,  as  they  kept  their  respective  places, 
without  motion. 

Don  shaded  his  eyes,  and  watched  for  some 
sign  of  life  in  them. 

Then  ha  sat  down,  for  he  found  a  cool  spot, 


Another  Phase.  166 

and  thought  he  might  better  stay  there  awhile 
than  to  go  in  a  smothering  chase  through  the 
breathless  woods  after  game.  He  was  not  afraid 
—  he  felt  sure  of  that  —  but  somehow  even  that 
distant  companionship  seemed  pleasanter  to  him 
than  to  be  alone. 

The  water  dazzled  him,  and  made  his  eyes 
blink.  But  presently  he  saw  the  oars  of  one  of 
the  boats  glisten,  as  they  were  lifted  and  dipped  ; 
then  the  other  oars  flashed  in  the  sun  like  blades 
of  silver,  and  Don  decided  that  they  were  pre- 
paring to  come  ashore. 

He  was  right.  They  were  having  no  luck, 
and  it  was  so  intensely  warm  that  they  had  de- 
termined to  leave  fishing  until  toward  evening, 
or  to  abandon  it  altogether  for  the  day. 

What  a  pretty  picture  they  made  !  The  regu- 
lar dip,  dip,  of  the  shining  paddles,  and  the 
magic,  airy  movement  of  the  boat  toward  land. 
It  was  prettier  to  watch,  than  to  share,  evidently, 
for  when  they  came  within  hail  Don  saw  that 
the  men  were  flushed,  and  that  their  foreheada 
were  dripping  like  rain. 

He  gave  them  a  brave  hallo,  and  ran  around 


166  Heart's  Content. 

nimbly  to  the  landing-place.  He  was  very  glad 
to  see  them.  He  had  never  been  so  entirely 
alone  for  an  hour  in  all  his  life  before. 

"  No  luck  this  morning,  Don,"  shouted  Mr. 
Lawrence,  glad  to  see  by  Don's  manner  that  his 
fatigue  had  not  made  him  sick. 

Then  as  he  stepped  ashore,  he  added  : 

"  You  are  in  luck,  Don,  to  have  had  a  nap, 
for  this  has  been  a  dull  morning's  work  —  the 
dullest  I  ever  knew.  Have  you  found  any 
shooting  ?  " 

Don  was  forced  to  confess  that  he  had  not 
tried  to  find  any. 

The  gentlemen  were  so  utterly  fagged  and  ex- 
hausted that  they  were  about  to  leave  the  boats, 
each  with  but  a  nose  in  the  sand,  when  Dave 
called  out : 

"  Give  us  a  lift  here,  and  we'll  draw  these 
boats  up."  He  had  a  quiet  air  of  authority. 

"Oh,  nonsense,  Dave  !  "  said  one  of  the  gentle- 
men, "  there  isn't  a  breath  of  wind."  And  Mr. 
Lawrence,  who  felt  himself  experienced,  supple- 
mented it  with,  "they're  all  right,  Dave,  we 
shall  go  out  in  an  hour  or  two  again." 


Another   Phase.  167 

"  All  the  same,"  replied  Dave,  "  I  guess  we'll 
draw  them  up." 

"  Dave  knows,"  decided  Mr.  Lawrence  ;  "  and 
it  is  possible  we  may  have  a  storm,"  glancing  at 
the  horizon  where  a  dense  bank  lay,  which  none 
of  the  party  had  perceived  before. 

Accordingly  the  boats  were  drawn  high  and 
dry,  and  then  they  wearily  climbed  the  little 
declivity  to  the  tent.  All  were  prostrated  with 
the  heat,  except  the  hardy  woodsman,  Dave, 
who  seemed  made  of  oak.  He  set  about  to  pre- 
pare for  dinner. 

It  was  only  eleven  o'clock,  but  they  had  gone 
out  early,  and  people  in  the  woods  are  always 
supposed  to  be  ready  for  a  cup  of  coffee  and  a 
lunch.  Dave  arranged  the  primitive  table  — 
which  was  but  a  cloth  spread  over  the  dry  pine 
needles — and  the  others  lounged  in  the  shade. 

Not  one  of  the  gentlemen  of  the  party  but 
would  have  felt  himself  deeply  injured  by  fate, 
had  he  been  obliged  by  circumstances  to  work 
half  so  hard  as  he  had  voluntarily  done  that 
morning. 

That  is  the  difference  between  spontaneous 
and  compulsory  tasks  —  in  one  case,  however 


168  Heart's  Content. 

severe,  they  are  easy ;  and  in  the  other,  however 
light,  they  are  burdensome. 

By  the  time  dinner  had  been  prepared  and 
eaten  the  sky  had  changed  its  aspect.  Evidently 
the  sultriness  was  to  culminate  in  a  tempest. 
The  clouds  were  ominous,  the  thunder  incessant, 
and  there  was  the  hush  of  suspense  upon  every- 
thing. 

All  were  out  upon  the  little  bluff  watching 
the  grand  panorama  of  storm,  except  Dave,  who 
bustled  about,  with  a  seemingly  unnecessary 
zeal,  getting  everything  under  shelter,  and  even 
going  down  again  to  the  beach  to  be  sure  that 
the  boats  were  properly  secured.  Then  he  took 
his  axe,  and  began  felling  a  dead  tree  of  consid- 
erable size,  which  stood  some  distance  from  the 
tent. 

Of  course  Don  asked  what  that  was  for. 

"  It  is  in  range  of  the  tent,  you  see,"  said  his 
father,  "  and  if  there  should  be  a  high  wind  it 
might  blow  over." 

This  seemed  to  Don  like  danger.  He  began 
to  be  uneasy ;  but,  as  his  father  kept  perfectly 
cool,  he  was  careful  not  to  betray  any  alarm. 
Dave  worked  like  a  Trojan.  He  swung  the  axe 


Another  Phase.  169 

as  if  it  had  been  a  toy ;  and  soon  the  old  white 
tree  fell  away  from  the  tent  with  a  crash. 

Hardly  was  this  completed,  when  in  looking 
across  the  lake,  they  saw  at  the  farther  shore,  a 
white  commotion.  The  clouds  were  streaming 
up  in  grey  masses,  as  if  torn  by  the  wind,  and 
the  storm  was  nearly  upon  them. 

On  and  on  came  the  great  wall  of  white  caps, 
tumbling  and  roaring,  and  standing  out  distinct 
against  the  black  water  like  an  advancing  wall 
of  broken  ice. 

Don  watched  it  with  awe. 

"  We'd  better  get  into  the  tent,"  said  Dave, 
laconically. 

Don  preferred  to  stay  outside,  for  he  was  fas-> 
cinated  with  the  approaching  tumult ;  but  as  he 
lingered,  his  father  said,  "  Don,"  and  he  mechan- 
ically entered  with  the  rest  under  that  frail 
shelter. 

Dave  instantly  secured  the  door,  and  gave 
brief  orders  to  each  man  where  and  how  to  hold 
on  to  the  tent.  Don  was  stationed  to  help  keep 
down  the  lapping  door,  for  that  opened  in  the 
direction  of  the  storm. 


170  Heart's  Content. 

The  wind  struck  them;,  and,  for  an  instant 
they  seemed  nearly  lifted  into  the  air.  Their 
house  —  their  only  shelter — was  merely  an 
anchored  umbrella,  which,  if  the  wind  got  under 
it,  must  surely  be  carried  awajr. 

The  first  gust  was  the  worst,  for  that  was  the 
shock ;  but  the  tent  was  not  wrecked,  and  they 
took  courage.  They  all  held  to  their  places 
with  speechless  persistence,  and  .the  walls  about 
them,  and  the  roof  above  them,  fluttered  like 
a  flag. 

Then  the  rain  came  —  a  flood,  a  torrent  —  but 
the  wind  did  not  abate. 

"  This  rain  will  relieve  us,"  shouted  Mr.  Law- 
rence, "  for  the  ground  will  be  soaked,  and  the 
pegs  will  hold  tighter." 

"No,  they  won't,"  said  Dave,  "for  they  are 
driven  in  sand,  and  this  will  only  loosen  them." 

Hail  came,  and  pattered  on  the  frail  balloon. 
They  could  scarcely  hear  themselves  speak,  for 
the  roaring  outside.  Don  was  pale  as  a  ghost, 
and  Mr.  Lawrence  seeing  it,  said : 

"  I  think  the  worst  is  over,  Don,"  at  which 
Don  recovered  his  courage  and  color. 


Another   Phase.  Ill 

At  length  there  was  subsidence ;  then  com- 
parative quiet ;  then  a  noticeable  lessening ; 
then  calm.  They  ventured  to  let  go  their  clutch 
upon  the  tent ;  and  after  a  little,  they  opened  a 
crack  of  the  door  and  peeped  out.  The  lake 
was  in  a  wild  uproar ;  but  the  rain  had  settled 
into  a  steady  soft  shower. 

Then  the  disagreeable  part  begun ;  for  hith- 
erto there  had  been  danger  enough  to  give  a  fine 
zest  to  discomfort.  Don  found  a  livulet  trick- 
ling under  his  feet,  which  had  already  wet  some 
of  the  blankets ;  the  fire  was  out,  and  where  it 
had  been  was  a  grey  pool  of  ashes;  everything 
outside  was  dripping ;  Don  had  left  his  gun 
somewhere,  he  could  not  remember  where ;  and 
all  the  while  the  rain  kept  falling,  falling. 

They  were  all  obliged  to  stay  under  the  one 
shelter,  as  Dave's  "  one  man  tent "  had  been 
blown  over;  and  this  made  them  considerably 
crowded.  It  could  not  be  more  than  three 
o'clock;  but  everything  looked  like  a  settled 
rain,  and  it  was  evident  there  could  be  no  more 
fishing  that  day. 

Don  began  to  feel  it  to  be  a  dreadful  waste 


172  Heart's  Content. 

of  time.  He  was  likely  to  lose  thus,  one  entire 
day,  half  in  sleep,  and  half  by  storm. 

In  no  place  does  pleasure  so  depend  upon  the 
weather  as  in  camp,  and  in  no  place  will  native 
patience  and  good  cheer  be  so  quickly  apparent. 

Don  was  inclined  to  growl.  "  I  don't  see  why 
it  should  rain  just  now,  of  all  other  times,"  he 
said,  "it  might  have  waited  until  next  week." 

"  A  good  woodsman,  Don,  never  loses  tem- 
per," said  Mr.  Lawrence.  "  It  is  the  best  part 
of  his  philosophy  to  take  things  as  they  come. 

Don  felt  the  rebuke ;  but  was  inclined  to 
defend  himself.  He  gave  this  mild  retort : 

"  Yes ;  for  gentlemen  can  smoke,  but  there  is 
nothing  for  a  boy  to  do." 

"  Reflect ! "  responded  Mr.  Lawrence,  smiling. 

That,  though  was  just  the  trouble.  Don's 
uneasiness  grew  out  of  reflecting  upon  how 
short  the  term  of  camping  must  be,  and  of  how 
long  the  rain  was  likely  to  last. 

Gradually  story-telling  began;  for  the  rain 
increased  rather  than  lessened.  And  in  that 
way  night  came  on.  Their  supper  was  a  cold, 
moist  lunch;  for  they  had  nothing  dry  with 


Another  Phase.  173 

which  to  kindle  a  fire.  They  made  as  merry  of 
it  as  they  could,  and  went  early  to  bed.  Don 
could  not  help  a  final  grumble: 

"  It  will  be  so  mean  if  it  rains  to-morrow,  arid 
I'm  sure  it  will." 

He  soon  forgot  all  vexations  in  an  excellent 
and  uninterrupted  sleep,  and  woke  in  the  morn- 
ing, to  find  the  day  fair  and  cool. 

This  fourth  day  in  Don's  week,  was  full  of 
incident;  but  nothing  very  new.  He  felt  more 
hardihood,  and  less  excitement,  as  he  grew  hab- 
ituated. Verily,  this  free  life  grew  upon  him  in 
charm  and  enjoyment. 

Wonders  were  plentiful.  For  instance,  he 
found  at  one  time  a  field  of  white  water-lilies 
in  a  little  land-locked  bay,  which  were  so  unlike 
any  he  had  ever  seen,  that  he  seriously  ques- 
tioned if  he  could  not  perserve  some  to  take 
home  to  his  mother. 

They  were  tinted  with  a  faint  pink,  and  were 
fragrant. 

It  is  needless  to  detail  the  entire  week.  Suf- 
fice it  to  say,  that  Don  grew  used  to  his  hard 
bed,  and  to  the  monotonous  fare ;  and  became 


174  Heart's  Content. 

steady  as  a  veteran  in  his  use  of  hook  and  line. 
He  no  longer  wondered  at  his  father's  enthu- 
siasm for  fishing  and  camping,  as  he  had  often 
done  before  trying  it ;  but  he  begrudged  the 
flight  of  every  moment  that  bore  them  nearer  to 
the  time  for  returning  to  civilization. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

MAKS'S   WAY  OF  DOING  BUSINESS. 

"  We  scatter  seeds  with  careless  hand, 
And  dream  we  ne'er  shall  see  them  more. 
But  for  a  thousand  years 
Their  fruit  appears." 

WITH  Don  away,  Mars  found  time  heavy 
upon  his  hands.  He  grew  restless,  and 
longed  for  something  out  of  the  regular  routine. 
And  every  member  of  the  family  at  Heart's 
Content  wished  with  equal  heartiness,  that 
something  could  be  devised  to  stop  his  fret- 
ting. 

Something  to  do  —  oh,  for  something  to  do  I 
was  his  persistent  cry. 
175 


176  Heart's  Content. 

Two  days  of  this  idleness,  and  a  bright  idea 
struck  him.  He  would  go  into  business  for 
himself.  Not  into  the  printing  business  —  for 
he  was  tired  of  that  —  but  into  something  very 
closely  connected  with  it. 

Down  the  street  only  a  short  distance  was  a 
candy-store,  and  a  news  and  fruit  stand  com- 
bined, kept  by  a  woman  who  had  no  little  boys 
of  her  own. 

Mars  was  not  one  of  her  most  frequent  cus- 
tomers, for  pennies  with  him  were  not  as  plenti- 
ful as  with  some,  though  whenever  he  had  a 
supply,  this  was  sure  to  be  his  first  resort.  The 
woman  had  taken  a  strong  liking  to  this  dimple- 
faced  little  belligerent,  who.  on  all  occasions 
pummeled  obnoxious  boys  with  such  readiness 
and  severity.  She  liked  his  staunch  frankness  ; 
and  prophesied  that  some  day  he  would  use  his 
energy  to  a  good  purpose,  when  his  hot-headi- 
ness  was  cooled  down  by  time. 

So  when  Mars  applied  to  her  to  be  let  to  de- 
liver her  newspapers  —  for  that  was  his  bright 
idea — she  arranged  with  him  to  do  it;  that  is, 
he  was  to  fetch  the  papers  from  the  train  at  six 
o'clock  every  evening.  For  this,  it  was  agreed 


Mars' 's  Way  of  Doing  Business.         177 

that  he  was  to  have  a  silver  quarter,  every  Sat- 
urday night,  and  a  weekly  paper;  and  he  was  to 
enter  upon  duty  at  once. 

The  first  two  days  the  novelty  of  having  a 
regular  occupation  on  hand  served  to  keep  the 
task  in  raind,  so  that  he  by  no  means  f9rgot  it, 
nor  was  a  minute  late  at  the  train. 

An4  he  felt  rich  in  advance  at  the  mere 
thought  of  a  quarter  of  a  dollar. 

The  third  day  after  he  began  business,  a  few 
of  his  mates  persuaded  him  to  go  for  blackber- 
ries out  in  a  field,  some  distance  from  town. 
They  started  directly  after  dinner,  and  were  to 
be  gone  two  hours  only  —  three,  at  most.  The 
berries  were  reported  very  thick,  and  each  boy 
had  a  basket  on  his  arm. 

It  was  a  fine  afternoon,  and  they  strolled 
along,  an  amiable  little  rabble,  all  talking  at 
once,  about  nothing,  which  was  everything  to 
them. 

They  reached  the  field,  which  lay  on  the  slope 
of  a  hill,  and  was  an  ugly  briery  place.  They 
were  quite  unconscious  of  distance  or  time. 
The  ground  was  atony  and  uncomfortable,  and 


178  Heart's  Content. 

one  of  the  boys  proposed  to  rest  before  they  be 
gan  picking  berries,  of  which,  however,  they  had 
as  yet,  found  none. 

Mars  threw  himself  down  at  fnll  length  in  a 
shady  place,  and  the  rest  seated  themselves,  and 
began  to  play  mumble-the-peg  with  their  jack- 
knives. 

All  at  once  Mars,  happening  to  glance  up,  saw 
something  in  the  sky  —  not  a  bird,  nor  a  kite, 
but  something  larger  and  stranger  than  either  of 
these. 

Now,  if  Mars  had  not  been  in  the  newspaper 
business,  and  had  not  informed  himself  as 
to  what  was  going  on,  he  would  have  been 
frightened. 

As  it  was,  he  gave  a  wild  whoop,  and  cried : 
"  Balloon  1  balloon  !  " 

And  sure  enough  it  was  a  balloon,  sailing 
along  in  the  beautiful  summer  afternoon,  just 
above  the  tops  of  the  trees. 

They  could  see  distinctly  the  three  persons  in 
it  —  «»La  Mountain  and  his  niece,  and  another 
man,"  Mars  announced. 

The  ascension  had  been  made  in  a  neighboring 


Afars's   Way  of  Doing  Business.        179 

town,  some  miles  away ;  and  Mars,  though  he 
had  read  of  it,  had  not  expected  to  be  a  witness 
of  any  portion  of  the  wonderful  event.  But 
here  it  was ! 

And  now  the  blackberries  were  forgotten ; 
and  snatching  their  baskets  in  flying  haste,  they 
•went  in  chase,  shouting  at  every  bound,  "  bal- 
loon I  balloon  !  " 

On  it  sailed,  slowly,  as  if  its  strength  was 
almost  spent,  and  so  low  that  the  voices  of  the 
persons  in  the  basket  could  be  distinctly  heard 
talking  and  laughing  ;  and  on  ran  Mars  and  his 
friends  after  it,  and  further  and  further  away 
from  home. 

Across  fields,  over  fences,  "  through  brake  and 
through  brier"  they  went, stimulated  and  spurred 
on  by  hearing  a  farmer,  who  with  his  family 
was  out  watching  the  air-ship  sail  over  his  own 
house,  ask  the  voyagers  to  come  down  and 
get  supper. 

Mars  and  his  eager  friends  came  to  the  foot 
of  the  great  hill,  and  by  this  time  quite  a  crowd 
of  country  boys  and  field-laborers  had  joined 
them.  The  balloon  swept  slowly  and  majesti- 
cally up  to  the  summit,  and  the  little  berry-seek- 


180  Heart's    Content. 

ers,  panting  and  breathless,  toiled  eagerly  after. 
Mavs  had  lost  his  basket  in  the  too-nimble 
scaling  of  a  fence,  but  he  left  it,  hoping  to  regain 
it  some  day. 

On  the  table-land  stretching  back  from  the 
hill  the  balloon  came  down,  and  "  La  Mountain 
and  his  niece,  and  another  man "  alighted,  and 
the  crowd  gathered  round. 

Just  at  this  climax  what  thought  flashed 
through  Mars's  mind  ? 

His  papers ! 

The  afternoon  was  waning,  and  his  habit  of 
being  prompt  had  not  as  yet  been  broken,  so 
that  even  under  this  excitement  he  could  not 
forget  it.  He  nudged  a  farmer  standing  near 
him.  "  Please  sir,  will  you  tell  me  what  time 
it  is?"  he  asked. 

"  Ten  minutes  past  five,"  said  the  man.  Mars 
knew  he  must  be  fully  three  miles  from  home. 
And  five  o'clock  was  his  supper  hour,  too ! 

Without  an  instant's  lingering,  without  having 
his  curiosity  in  the  least  satisfied  about  his  bal- 
loon, and  without  more  than  the  glancing 
thought  of  supper,  back  he  started  on  a  run, 
heated  and  tired  as  he  was. 


Mars's  Way  of  Doing  Business.        181 

On  and  on  the  little  sturdy  feet  trudged,  run 
ning  when  they  could,  and  when  the  way  was 
rough,  walking  fast,  and  clambering  and  toiling ; 
but  every  moment  getting  nearer  and  nearer  to 
the  city,  as  the  sun  sank  toward  six  o'clock. 

Just  as  the  train  came  rumbling  into  the 
station,  a  little  dusty  figure  ran  up  the  platform, 
with  hat  far  on  the  back  of  his  head,  russet  locks 
dripping,  and  cheeks  almost  purple,  and  with 
legs  evidently  not  quite  so  sound  and  steady  as 
when  he  started.  It  was  Mars,  and  he  was  in 
time  to  get  his  papers. 

He  took  the  packet  and  trudged  up  to  the 
news-stand. 

"How  now,  Mars ?"  said  the  woman,  "you 
look  all  tired  out.'' 

"  I  ran,"  explained  Mars. 

"But  I  wouldn't  run  in  that  fashion  when  it 
is  so  hot,"  she  said,  kindly.  u  There  is  no  great 
hurry  for  the  papers." 

"  But  I  was  miles  away,"  panted  Mars,  "  and 
I  hurried  so,  and  I  lost  my  basket  besides."  He 
wiped  his  crimson  forehead,  feeling  a  terrible 
void  now  where  supper  should  have  been  in  his 


182  Heart's   Content. 

stomach.  Yet  he  could  go  no  further  until  he 
had  taken  time  to  breathe. 

By  degrees  he  told  his  story,  and  of  how,  just 
as  he  had  reached  that  wonderful  flying  boat,  he 
remembered  that  he  was  always  to  deliver  his 
papers  at  just  six  o'clock  ;  and  how  he  had  turned 
back,  and  had  got  to  the  train  not  a  minute  too 
soon. 

"  Well,  Mars,"  said  the  kindly  woman,  "  you 
know  that  was  the  bargain.  If  you  fail  in  your 
part  of  it,  of  course  I  have  a  right  to  fail  in 
mine." 

"  But  that  isn't  my  way  of  doing  business," 
said  Mars,  rather  resentfully. 

"  I  see  it  isn't,"  she  said,  "  and  I  am  very 
glad." 

Then  she  said,  taking  an  orange  from  a  pyra- 
midal golden  heap : 

"  You  must  be  thirsty  and  hungry  too  —  here 
is  something  to  refresh  you." 

Mars  had  not  expected  any  reward.  He  knew 
the  value  of  oranges  —  five  cents  each.  He  ac- 
cepted it  with  alacrity,  and  found  himself  re- 
freshed enough  to  go  home  at  once,  without 
further  rest. 


Mars's  Way  <f  Doing  Business.         183 

"  I'll  divide  with  Jane,"  he  reflected,  gener- 
ously, as  he  went  out. 

This  orange  was  as  fair  as  an}r  of  the  three 
golden  apples  which,  in  the  legend,  beguiled 
Atalanta  from  her  race.  Indeed  they  must 
have  looked  like  this,  round,  fresh,  yellow, 
glowing. 

Mars  walked  on  a  full  block  with  it  in  his 
hand,  and  with  the  resolve  in  his  heart  that  Jane 
should  have  half  of  it.  But  he  might  break  off 
just  one  little  bit  of  the  rind,  of  course  —  it  was 
very  tempting ! 

In  doing  that,  a  morsel  of  the  juice  naturally 
touched  his  lips.  Then  he  had  a  sudden 
inspiration. 

Why  not  eat  his  part  of  it  now,  and  not  wait  ? 
What  was  he  waiting  for?  He  could  carry 
Jane's  to  her  afterward,  just  the  same. 

He  nibbled  it,  in  tiny  bits  at  first,  and  gin- 
gerly, then  relishably  and  greedily.  Half  of  it 
was  gone  before  he  knew  it,  and  he  had  had 
scarcely  a  taste. 

Perhaps  he  might  eat  just  one  more  section  of 
It  than  half,  and  one  could  hardly  tell  it  by  the 
looks.  He  ate  that. 


184  Heart's  Content. 

Then  it  occurred  to  him,  in  a  half-petulant 
spirit,  that  Jane  knew  nothing  of  it,  any  way ; 
and  what  reason  had  he  to  suppose  that  she 
would  care  ? 

At  this  juncture,  there  was  only  a  quarter  of 
it  left.  He  walked  slowly.  He  made  the  most 
of  the  cool  sweet  juice,  and  yet  every  drop  was  a 
bitter  one  to  his  conscience. 

In  an  unaccountable  way,  even  the  last  quar- 
ter diminished,  until  only  a  small  piece  was  left. 
He  was  thoroughly  ashamed  to  carry  such  a 
mere  fragment  as  that  to  Jane.  It  really 
wouldn't  be  very  polite,  and  certainly  was.  not 
worth  while. 

So  that  was  eaten,  too. 

Later  in  the  day,  out  on  the  door-step,  he  told 
Jane,  who  was  perched  with  her  usual  devotion 
close  to  his  side,  the  marvellous  story  of  the 
balloon.  He  dwelt  upon  how  near  it  had  come 
to  their  heads  as  they  lay  resting  under  the  tree  ; 
how  he  had  distinctly  heard  La  Mountain  talk ; 
and  how  he  had  been  near  enough  on  the  hill  to 
touch  the  great  silk  bubble  in  its  net. 

Then  how  he  had  had  to  turn  back  and  leave 


Mars' 8   Way  of  Doing  Business.         185 

it.  This  sacrifice  increased  in  importance  with 
each  recital.  It  really  had  taken  no  little  moral 
courage  for  such  an  eager,  curious  boy,  to  put  a 
check  upon  all  his  inclinations,  and  to  turn  de- 
liberately away  from  an  excitement.  As  he 
reviewed  it,  he  began  to  realize  how  he  had  been 
deprived. 

He  had  no  idea  of  being  boastful,  but  then  he 
did  like  to  be  a  hero  to  Jane. 

Perhaps  the  secret  of  his  favoritism  for  her 
was  that  he  could,  on  almost  any  occasion,  be  a 
hero  in  her  eyes ;  while  with  Nanny  or  Trudge 
it  was  generall}'  a  scramble  for  individual  rights 
on  either  side,  without  anything  of  worship,  or 
deference,  or  partiality. 

Jane  asked  wonder-eyed  questions  in  plenty. 
She  was  willing  to  lose  herself  any  day  in  admi- 
ration for  Mars.  How  did  they  all  look  ?  Was 
the  balloon  as  big  —  oh,  as  big  as  the  house? 
Would  he  be  afraid  to  ride  in  a  balloon  ?  Did 
he  suppose  he  ever  should  ride  in  a  balloon  ? 
Why  didn't  he  stay  there  as  long  as  the  people 
stayed,  and  find  out  all  about  it  ? 

"  That  isn't  my  way  of  doing  business,"  was 


186  Heart's   Content. 

the  grand  reply.  And  that  proved  to  be  the 
apex  of  her  admiration  for  him.  Surely  there 
never  was  as  heroic  a  figure  as  Mars  !  Jane  had 
no  more  questions  to  ask. 

Then,  little  by  little,  and  by  going  all  around 
Robin  Hood's  barn,  Mars  confessed  about  the 
orange. 

He  had  intended  to  fetch  her  half  —  it  wasn't 
a  very  large  one.  And  she,  meek  little  soul,  was 
abundantly  proud  and  happy  that  he  had  re- 
membered her,  and  thought  him  a  very  noble 
and  generous  brother.  These  sentiments  entirely 
obscured  the  fact  that  he  had  eaten  the  orange 
himself,  and  she  had  neither  seen  nor  tasted  it. 

Nanny  would  have  been  sure  to  ask  him  if 
that  was  his  '"  way  of  doing  business  ;"  but  Jane 
was  not  troublesome.  It  is  to  be  doubted  if  she 
•was  quick-witted  enough  to  probe  him  to  that 
extent. 

Mars  really  felt  as  if  he  had  struck  a  new 
key-note,  had  made  a  discovery,  as  it  were. 
That  there  was  a  possible  orange  in  the  future 
for  a  prompt  performance  of  duty  may  have  had 
its  effect. 


Another   Phase.  187 

"  If  you  will  always  try  to  be  as  right  in  what 
you  do,  as  you  are  likely  to  be  prompt,"  his 
father  said,  "  I  shall  never  find  any  fault  in  your 
way  of  doing  business.  Both  things  are  need- 
ful, right  and  ready." 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  OLD   BENT  TREE. 

"  That  old  familiar  tree 
Whose  glory  and  renown 
Are  spread  o'er  land  and  sea." 

IS     there     any    child     who    has    not    heard 
that  — 

"  Satan  finds  some  mischief  still 
For  idle  hands  to  do." 

Surely  our  little  flock  were  familiar  with  it, 
for  it  was  one  of  Aunt  Ann's  favorite  quota- 
tions. At  least  once  a  day  she  found  it  applica- 
ble —  especially  during  vacations. 

She  held  Mars  up  as  a  fine  example  of  indus- 
try to  the  rest ;  but,  aside  from  Jane's  knitting- 
work,  the  girls  found  summer  too  pleasant  for 
anything  but  idleness. 
1 88 


The   Old  Bent  Tree.  189 

Some  distance  back  from  Heart's  Content  was 
a  wood ;  and  in  that  wood  was  an  old  tree,  a 
stout  oak  that  bent  from  the  roots  in  an  arch, 
the  top  branches  touching  the  ground.  It  was 
the  belief  of  the  children  that  the  Indians  bent 
it,  though  it  had  probably  been  partially  up- 
turned by  the  wind,  at  some  early  day,  and  had 
grown  into  that  position  by  the  weight  of  its 
own  branches. 

This  tree  was  a  favorite  resort  of  children, 
when  they  could  go  in  a  large  party,  and  the^r 
climbed  from  the  root  over  the  grand  trunk, 
either  high  up  into  its  branches,  or  directly  over 
it  to  the  ground  again,  as  if  it  had  been  a  bridge. 
Many  wonderful  feats  were  performed  in  way  of 
reaching  the  highest  limbs,  and  in  perching  up 
iii  crotches  and  clefts,  like  squirrels. 

But  the  wood  was  so  dense  about  it  that  chil- 
dren did  not  usually  like  to  go  there  alone  to 
play.  The  stillness  had  something  mysterious 
in  it;  and  there  were  stories  current  among 
them  of  Indians  with  tomahawks,  and  of  pan- 
thers and  wolves.  So,  unless  their  numbers 
warranted  it,  their  voices  were  rarely  heard  in 
that  leafy  stillness. 


190  Heart's  Content. 

Moreover,  some  parents  doubted  the  safety  of 
letting  their  children  go  there,  as  the  height  from 
the  ground  was  considerable,  and  with  a  crowd 
of  frolicsome  children  on  the  trunk  there  was 
danger  of  falls  and  of  broken  limbs. 

One  winter,  years  before,  when  the  snow  was 
deep,  the  tracks  of  a  bear  had  been  found  about 
the  old  tree ;  and  that,  forever  after,  added  a 
real  atmosphere  of  danger  to  the  place. 

But  Nanny,  true  to  her  instincts  for  forbidden 
pleasures,  liked  the  old  bent  tree  better  than  any 
other  play -ground.  With  her  as  leader,  it  was 
often  visited,  even  after  school  at  night,  and 
sometimes  the  shadows  would  deepen  into  dusk 
before  she  thought  it  time  to  go  home. 

She  was  more  fearless  than  any  one,  in  all  the 
climbing  and  perching  and  swinging.  From  the 
ground,  her  rosy  face  and  her  little  pink  and 
white  plaid  dress  made  her  look. more  like  a  red 
apple,  than  anything  else,  up  among  the  green 
leaves. 

The  day  after  Mars's-  blackberrying,  the  little 
girls  had  a  visitor  to  spend  the  day.  It  was  little 
Lydia  Heather  —  otherwise  Blossom.  They  had 
exhausted  play-house,  and  swing,  and  hay  mow. 


The   Old  Bent  Tree.  191 

Dolls  and  visiting  had  been  voted  a  bore,  and 
there  yet  remained  many  long  hot  hours  to  be 
got  through  with  before  bed-time. 

It  was  four  o'clock  ;  what  should  be  done  ? 

44  Let's  go  to  the  old  bent  tree,"  brightened 
Nanny,  as  \vith  an  inspiration. 

"Oh,  I'm  afraid,"  protested  Jane,  but  only 
half  above  her  breath,  for  she  knew  Nanny  would 
laugh. 

*4  I'm  not  afraid,"  put  in  stout  little  Trudge. 

"Nor  I,"  twittered  Blossom,  too  much  of  a 
baby  to  know  much  about  consequences  —  being 
even  smaller  than  Trudge. 

44  You're  forever  afraid,  Jane,"  said  Nanny, 
with  a  high  scorn  of  such  a  lack  of  spirit.  "  I 
wonder  you're  not  afraid  to  breathe.  What  is 
there  to  be  afraid  of,  I'd  like  to  know." 

"  W-o-l-ves,"  said  Jane,  with  something  of  a 
show  of  cause  on  her  side,  and  bringing  out  her 
standard  objection. 

"  Nonsense  !  "  retorted  Nanny,  "  wolves  only 
come  in  the  winter.  Nobody  ever  saw  a  wolf 
in  summer." 

Jane  could  not  contradict  this  wisdom;  and 


192  Heart's  Content. 

consequently  showed  immediate  signs  of  having 
weakened  in  her  opposition.  But  she  rallied  to 
say: 

"  Mother  does  not  like  us  to  go  there." 

"She  has  never  said  we  mustn't,"  replied 
Nanny. 

At  this,  the  bold  ones  grew  bolder.  Coward- 
ice was  utterly  silenced;  and  they  all  started, 
without  a  word  to  mother  or  Aunt  Ann,  for  the 
wood. 

As  soon  as  they  reached  the  welcome  shade 
of  the  trees,  they  took  off  their  sunbonnets,  the 
better  to  feel  the  cool  breeze  in  their  hot  faces. 
They  loitered,  picking  up  now  and  then  a  peb- 
ble, now  and  then  a  flower.  They  made  their 
way  slowly  through  a  hazel-thicket,  and  then 
through  deep  woods,  toward  the  old  bent  tree. 

They  reached  it  at  last  —  always  with  a  shout 
of  welcome,  for  its  fine  bent  figure,  so  in  con- 
trast with  the  straight  old  monarchs  all  about, 
was  a  perpetual  delight  to  them. 

A  cloud  had  hidden  the  sun*,  and  Jane  sat 
down  to  wipe  her  hot  face  with  her  apron,  while 
Nanny  sprang  at  once  up  the  curved  trunk, 
Trudge  and  Blossom  toiling  cautiously  after. 


The  Old  Bent  Tree.  193 

"  See  me ! "  and  "  see  me  I  "  were  the  shouts 
from  various  points  along  the  journey. 

But  Jane  was  not  an  enthusiastic  looker-on. 
She  was  tired,  and  thought  she  heard,  just  now, 
with  a  thump  at  her  heart,  a  distant  muttering 
of  thunder. 

If  there  was  one  thing  that  terrified  her  more 
than  another,  it  was  a  thunder  shower;  and 
that,  as  well  as  the  haunting  and  undefined 
dread  of  a  wolf,  made  her  very  miserable. 

"  Why  don't  you  come,  Jane  ?  "  piped  little 
Blossom,  perched  like  a  fairy  close  to  the  first 
branch.  At  that,  it  dawned  upon  Jane,  that  if 
a  wolf  should  come,  she  would  be  alone  on  ther 
ground,  and  probably  the  first  victim. 

This  was  like  a  sting  to  her  already  roused 
fear ;  and  she  made  a  wild  scramble  to  join  the 
laughing  throng  on  the  tree.  Their  merriment 
seemed  to  her  like  a  reckless  defiance  of  danger, 
and  though  ashamed  to  express  her  fears  —  for 
she  was  conscious  of  always  foreboding  alarms 
and  troubles  —  she  managed  to  sa}r,  "  I  — 
thought  —  it  thundered." 

At  thj.s,  Nanny,  from  her  high  perch,  burst 
into  such  a  fit  of  laughter,  that  she  nearly  lost 


194  Heart*  Content. 

her  hold;  and  Trudge  and  Blossom  followed 
suit,  though  they  hardly  knew  at  what. 

"  What  won't  Jane  think  next ! "  exclaimed 
Nanny.  "  She  is  such  a  funny  girl  to  find 
trouble.  She'll  be  the  death  of  me,  I  know," 
and  her  shrill  "  ho !  ho ! "  rang  out  again. 

Blossom  felt  sorry  for  Jane,  and  said : 

"Oh,  Janey,  don't  be  so  'fraid.  We're  all 
here ! '' 

Jane  made  a  brave  effort  to  overcome  her 
weakness,  and  followed  the  others  up  the  leafy 
bridge. 

It  was  exciting  to  be  so  far  from  the  ground, 
and  to  hear  the  rustle  of  boughs  so  near  her. 
She  thought  that  birds  in  a  nest  might  feel  as 
she  did,  so  high,  and  light,  and  breezy. 

But  it  was  true  that  she  had  heard  thunder  ; 
and  the  black  cloud  could  be  distinctly  seen 
shutting 'out  the  sun.  Nanny  noticed  it  for 
some  time  before  she  was  willing  to  yield,  and 
she  strove  to  keep  up  a  show  of  indifference. 

,But  when,  after  a  little,  Trudge  complained  of 
being  hungry,  that  offered  a  loophole  of  honor- 
able escape ;  and  she,  all  at  once,  remembered 
that  it  must  be  near  supper-time. 


The   Old  Bent  Tree.  195 

"We'll  have  to  go,"  she  said,  "for  mother 
don't  know  where  we  are." 

The  getting  down  from  the  tree  was  easy 
work  to  the  nimble  and  experienced  Nanny, 
and  in  fact  to  all,  except  to  the  unpractised  little 
Blossom.  She  had  only  crawled  to  the  first  limb, 
and  the  high  main  arch  was  still  to  be  crossed 
and  that  involved  getting  round  and  under 
interfering  branches,  and  keeping  a  steady  head 
when  the  first  height  was  reached.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  return  down  the  steep  trunk,  without 
twig  or  bough  of  any  kind  to  cling  to,  was  even 
more  formidable. 

It  was  easy  enough  to  climb  up,  with  friendly 
hands  behind  to  "  boost,"  and  the  rough  bark  to 
cling  to,  and  a  waiting  help  at  the  top  from  some 
squirrel  of  a  girl,  who  had  got  up  beforehand ; 
but  the  getting  down  threatened  not  to  be  so 
easy. 

Blossom  saw  her  strait,  and  had  much  more 
reason  to  cry  than  Jane  had  had  with  her  imag- 
inary fears.  But  she  listened  to  Trudge's  en- 
couraging logic : 

"  You  can't  fall,  Blossom,  for  I  couldn't,"  and 


196  Heart's    Content. 

tried  to  do  all  the  contradictory  things  that 
Nanny  and  Jane  advised. 

"  Now,  sit  still,"  from  Jane,  who  had  a  vague 
idea  that  presence  of  mind  implied  sitting  still ; 
and,  "  now  run  from  that  branch  to  the  next 
one "  from  Nanny,  whose  resources  were  all 
active. 

She  instinctively  tried  to  follow  Nanny's 
advice ;  but  the  result  was  that  she  followed 
Jane's,  and  clung  helplessly  to  the  tree.  Nanny 
who  had  got  down  once,  climbed  again  to  where 
Blossom  was  clinging,  and  cheered,  and  tried  to 
help  her. 

But  the  height  had  turned  Blossom's  little 
head  giddy ;  and  the  consciousness  that  her 
plight  was  a  difficult  oue,  made  her  cry,  and 
then  she  could  do  nothing. 

What  was  to  be  done  ! 

Jane's  head  was  full  of  expedients,  but  none 
of  them  seemed  practicable.  Finally,  sensible 
Trudge  thought  they  would  have  to  go  home  for 
help  ;  and,  seeing  how  really  hopeless  it  was  that 
Blossom  could  ever  get  down,  it  was  finally 
decided  that  that  must  be  done. 

But  who  should  go,  and  who  should  stay  ? 


The   Old  Bent  Tree.  197 

The  parley  had  occupied  a  good  deal  of  time. 
Meanwhile  the  thunder  grew  more  frequent,  and 
the  air  darkened.  Jane  forgot  all  about  the 
"  wolf "  in  view  of  the  near  and  real  distress. 
Either  to  go  or  to  stay  was  dreadful  —  to  go 
alone  through  the  woods,  or  to  stay  alone  in  the 
storm. 

She  was  not  selfish.  She  clung  to  each  little 
sister,  and  wanted  to  share  the  peril  of  each. 
She  had  no  idea  of  choosing ;  but  left  it  all  to 
Nanny. 

Nanny  was  sobered  in  earnest ;  and  for  once 
the  dimples  relaxed  in  her  cheeks,  and  she 
looked  almost  as  solemn  as  Jane  herself.  Blossom 
settled  it  by  saying: 

"  Oh,   Nanny,  stay  with  me  I  " 

"  Jane  and  Trudge,  you  run  home  and  tell 
mother  that  Blossom  can't  get  down.  You 
know  I  am  more  used  to  it  up  here  than  you 
are  ;  and  Blossom  and  I  won't  be  one  bit  afraid," 
said  Nanny. 

Just  then  the  wind  began  to  rise,  turning  the 
white  sides  of  the  leaves  uppermost.  Otherwise 
there  wa*s  a  deathly  stillness.  Jane  took  Trudge's 
hand,  and  with  a  parting  pang  looked  back  and 


198  Heart's   Content. 

saw  Nanny  and  Blossom  sitting  on  the  tree  next 
to  the  great  limb,  and  watching  them  —  Blossom 
tearful,  and  Nanny  trying  to  laugh. 

This  put  wings  into  her  feet,  and  she  dragged 
the  helpless  but  willing  Trudge  after.  On,  on, 
toward  home,  with  the  dense  black  cloud  front- 
ing them,  and  the  strong  wind  blowing  in  their 
frightened  faces.  A  flash  of  lightning,  followed 
by  a  heavy  rumble,  only  added  to  their  speed. 
They  must  not  wait  to  cry  for  the  ones  in  dan- 
ger, but  they  must  hurry,  hurry  ! 

They  were  bare-headed,  and  the  thick  hazel 
bushes  scratched  and  hindered  them.  But  not  a 
word  of  complaint  from  either  —  Trudge,  so 
composed  and  eager,  making  as  fast  time  with 
her  sturdy,  heavy  little  body,  as  Jane  did,  with 
her  slim,  light  one. 

Did  it  sprinkle?  One  drop,  surely  fell  on 
Jane's  hot  cheek. 

But  if  only  it  need  not  lighten  any  more,  she 
would  not  care  for  a  wetting.  It  did  lighten, 
though,  a  bright  fierce  flash,  with  a  quick,  heavy 
volley  after  it ;  and  down  poured  the  drenching 
drops,  and  on  they  fled. 

Poor    little    girls!     They   had    scarcely  any 


The   Old  Bent  Tree.  199 

breath  or  strength  left,  when  they  reached  the 
gate  at  last,  and  found  their  mother  nearly  wild 
with  anxiety. 

Their  story  was  quickly  told ;  and  Mars 
secured  the  aid  of  Blossom's  father,  who  was  a 
near  neighbor,  and  with  shawls  and  umbrellas 
they  started  to  the  rescue. 

And  Nanny  and  Blossom ! 

As  soon  as  Jane  and  Trudge  were  out  of  sight 
Blossom's  courage  vanished,  and  Nanny  began 
to  comfort  her. 

"Play  we're  the  Babes  in  the  Wood,"  she 
said ;  but  that  only  made  Blossom  cry  the 
harder,  since  that  had  always  been  the  most  try- 
ing of  stories  to  her  warm  little  heart. 

"  Well,"  pursued  Nanny,  "  play  we're  gypsies, 
and  live  in  a  tent  ?  you  sit  close  up  to  the  limb, 
Blossie,  and  I'll  make  a  tent  of  my  apron." 

Then  she  tickled  Blossom,  to  insure  her  laugh- 
ing ;  and  said  she  didn't  think  there  was  ever 
such  fun  before.  That  was  just  the  place  of  all 
others  to  play  gypsy  ;  and  she  chattered  so  much 
that  Blossom  had  no  chance  to  get  frightened, 
until  the  flash  of  lightning  came.  When  it  did 
come,  Nanny  gave  a  great  jump,  and  grew  pale ; 


200  Heart's    Content. 

but  rallied,  and  turned  it  off  by  drawing  the 
apron  over  both  their  heads,  and  saying: 
"  Oh,  isn't  it  fun,  Blossie  ?  " 

She  now  found  the  wind  to  be  dangerously 
strong,  arid  thought  to  herself  that  if  Jane  was 
there  she  would  surely  be  afraid  that  the  tree 
would  blow  over.  As  for  her,  she  only  fixed 
Blossom  as  securely  as  possible  against  the  limb, 
and  putting  one  arm  around  her,  held  on  with 
the  other  hand  as  tight  as  she  could. 

She  had  to  sit  astride  the  great  trunk  in  order 
to  keep  her  place  at  all.  But  still  she  ran  on 
gossiping  ;  wishing  they  had  something  there  to 
play  cook,  since  Don  and  father  were  no  doubt 
that  very  moment  cooking  their  supper  over  a 
camp-fire.  For  her  part,  she  wouldn't  be  afraid 
to  stay  all  night,  as  Don  did,  but  thought  it 
would  be  jolly. 

Then  the  rain  came,  drenching  them  to  the 
skin,  and  pouring  streams  down  their  hair  and 
faces. 

"  Oh,  isn't  it  fun  ?  "  choked  Nanny,  and  Bios 
Bom  piped  a  feeble,  strangled  "  yes." 

"  Hold  tight  to  me,  Blossie,"  cautioned  Nanny, 


The   Old  Bent  Tree.  201 

catching  her  breath,  "that's  the  —  way  —  the 
gypsies  —  do." 

And  Blossom  clung,  and  tried  to  laugh,  and 
feel  that  it  was  "  having  fun  ; "  but  every  other 
breath  was  a  sob. 

The  hand  by  which  Nanny  clung  to  the  tree 
was  nearly  blistered;  but  she  held  fast,  and 
when  she  saw  Blossom's  quivering  lip,  she  poked 
her  under  her  arm,  and  "  tickled "  her,  as  she 
sometimes  did  Trudge,  in  their  morning  frolics 
before  they  got  dressed. 

Blossom's  father,  followed  by  Mars,  was  not 
slow  in  reaching  the  tree,  nor  were  they  any  too 
soon,  for  Nanny's  strength  was  nearly  gone. 
Blossom  dropped  her  little  dripping  body  with 
perfect  trust,  into  her  tall  father's  outstretched 
arms,  and  she  liked  that  way  of  gypsying  best — 
having  a  shawl  wrapped  nicely  around  her,  and 
being  borne  along  under  an  umbrella. 

Nanny  scrambled  down,  spry  as  a  spider,  and 
trotted  bravely  along  after  Mars,  who  kept  up  a 
running  fire  upon  botherations  and  nuisances, 
and  girls  in  general.  The  storm  buffeted  them 
so  that  she  could  not  keep  the  shelter  of  his 
umbrella,  had  she  tried ;  but  she  paddled  after 


202  Heart's   Content. 

him,  taking  pains,  not  to  avoid  the  puddles  that 
lay  in  her  path,  but  to  wade  through  every  one. 
Being  very  wet,  gave  her  for  once  in  her  life  full 
freedom  to  splash  and  spatter  and  bedraggle 
herself  to  her  heart's  content. 

One  hand  was  smarting  very  much,  and  even 
bleeding ;  but  who  ever  knew  Nanny  to  cry  for 
such  a  little  thing  as  that  ? 

When  they  got  to  the  house,  Jane  and  Trudge 
stood  waiting  in  the  door  to  greet  them.  Blos- 
som cried  out,  all  her  trials  forgotten,  "  Trudge, 
we  played  gypsy!" 

Then  the  wet  things  had  to  be  taken  off  and 
dry  ones  put  on,  and  Blossom  was  allowed  to 
linger  only  long  enough  to  say  "good-night." 

It  was  a  great  puzzle  to  Aunt  Ann,  how 
Nanny's  feet  came  to  be  so  much  wetter  than 
&ny  other  part  of  her  body,  and  Mars  solved  it 
by  saying  he  guessed  it  rained  upwards,  which 
set  Nanny  off  into  perfect  convulsions.  Noth- 
ing so  amused  her  as  to  have  Mars  stand  by  her 
and  help  her  out  when  she  had  been  doing  things 
for  which  she  knew  she  ought  to  be  scolded. 
Her  hand  was  bound  up,  and  she  had  the  addi- 
tional frolic  of  trying  to  eat  her  bread  and  milk 


The   Old  Bent  Tree.  203 

with  her  left  hand.  Trudge,  of  course,  must 
imitate  her,  and  between  them  they  managed  to 
soil  two  more  clean  aprons  before  going  to  bed. 

Nanny,  thinking  that  perhaps  some  fault 
might  attach  to  the  afternoon's  proceedings, 
boldly  announced  that  she  was  to  blame,  and 
that  neither  Trudge  nor  Jane  were  at  all  in 
fault. 

"  There  is  no  necessity  for  telling  us  that," 
said  Aunt  Ann,  who  not  being  able  to  suppress 
a  smile,  made  it  as  grim  as  she  could. 

"  Nobody  ever  thinks  •  of  attributing  such 
performances  to  anybody  but  you." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

A  BIT  OF  DISCIPLHTE. 

*•  Piped  the  black-bird  on  the  beechen  spray, 
'  Pretty  maid'  slow  wandering  this  way, 
What's  your  name  ?  '  quoth  he." 

AT  last  vacation  was  over,  and  the  battle  of 
getting  ready  for   school   began  again  o' 
mornings,    and    the    hungry   comings   home   o' 
nights. 

Don,  when  he  got  home  from  his  forest  holi- 
day, bronzed  and  very  experienced  in  the  eyes 
of  all  his  mates,  was  not  allowed  to  feel  any 
regret  or  impatience  ;  but  was  stimulated  anew 
to  study  by  the  promise  of  going  to  college,  and 
he  was  to  begin  Greek  at  the  opening  of  the  fall 
term.  Nanny  found  so  much  "  fun  "  everywhere, 
204 


A  Bit  of  Discipline.  205 

in  school  as  well  as  out,  that  she  felt  no  reluctance. 
Jane  pined  a  little  at  leaving  Totty  and  her 
dolls  and  cat ;  but  strange  to  say,  the  insubordi- 
nation all  lay  with  Trudge. 

She  didn't  want  to  go  I  In  vain  was  a  nice 
new  first-reader  offered  in  place  of  the  worn, 
green  primer  which  had  stood  the  stress  bravely, 
since  she  had  carried  it  to  bed  with  her  every 
night,  and  had  scarcely  taken  her  food  without 
it  either  under  her  arm,  or  beside  her  plate. 

In  vain  was  a  fresh,  ruffled  white  apron  put 
on  over  the  pink  gingham  frock,  and  a  bit  of 
pink  riboon  tied  at  the  end  of  her  smooth,  flaxen 
braid.  She  didn't  want  to  go. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lawrence  exchanged  amused 
glances  at  this  new  and  unaccountable  obstinacy. 
And  even  Aunt  Ann  was  obliged  to  leave  the 
room  on  some  pretext,  to  avoid  being  seen  to 
laugh,  when  Trudge  took  her  stand.  Grave, 
perverse,  studious,  mischievous,  whimsical  little 
Trudge  would  not  go  to  school. 

Would  not,  I  say,  but  she  did,  though  very 
unwillingly.  She  neither  pouted  nor  cried,  but 
planted  her  little  willful  feet,  so  to  speak,  and 
declined  to  move,  until  fairly  scatted  out  of  the 


206  Heart's  Content. 

house,    like    a    kitten,  by    the    whole    amused 
family. 

What  possessed  her,  nobody  could  divine. 
She  gave  no  reason,  and,  after  the  first  morning, 
made  no  outward  rebellion,  but  those  who 
watched  saw  that  her  determination  did  not 
waver. 

More  than  a  week  passed,  and  yet  each  morn- 
ing the  scene  was  repeated,  until  getting  off  to 
school  began  to  include  the  frolic  of  getting 
Trudge  started.  Mars  called  her  a  mule,  and 
would  seriously  have  missed  the  bit  of  comedy 
she  furnished  him  each  day  in  her  staiu,  sober- 
going  way. 

Her  old  love  for  her  book  did  not  come  back. 
She  plodded  through  her  lessons  in  her  near- 
sighted, faultless  way,  she  played  and  was  cheer- 
ful; but  there  the  fact  remained,  it  was  all 
against  her  will  —  she  didn't  want  to  go  to 
school. 

The  morning  of  which  I  write  she  had  a  more 
than  commonly  fresh  and  willing  start.  Mars 
did  not  have  to  "  shoo  "  her,  nor  say  "  get  up  " 
to  her,  with  a  cluck,  as  he  would  at  a  horse. 
She  kissed  mamma  and  Totty  and  Aunt  Ann, 


A  Bit  of  Discipline.  207 

and  bowled  away  quite  blithe  and  cheery.  She 
even  twittered  and  sang  to  herself,  and  was  even 
heedless  in  her  light-heartedness. 

Evidently  by  not  being  opposed,  she  was  be- 
ginning to  forget  her  own  perversity.  The  truth 
is,  the  first-reader  was  growing  very  attractive 
to  her  —  quite  a  new  world  compared  with  the 
old  one  of  the  primer. 

She  had  lingered  a  little  behind  the  rest,  since 
Nanny  was  always  off  like  a  swallow  on  the 
wing,  and  Jane  was  usually  rods  behind,  in  Mars's 
wake  —  never  able  to  keep  up  with  him,  but 
never  willing  to  be  left  behind.  As  we  have 
seen,  she  had  taken  a  very  timely  start,  and  wore 
her  most  shining  morning  face. 

When  almost  to  school  she  slipped  on  a  wet 
crossing,  and,  sorry  to  tell,  fell  at  full  length. 
Gathering  herself  up,  she  found  her  pretty  clean 
stockings  wet  and  stained  from  ankle  to  knee, 
and  her  neat  little  boots  muddy  and  spoiled. 

Dismay  seized  her,  and  a  great  globule  of  a 
tear  ran  down  either  cheek.  The  instant  ques- 
tion was,  how  could  she  go  to  school  so  untidy, 
so  uncomfortable? 

She  surveyed  herself  a  minute  or  two,  growing 


208  Heart's  Content. 

more  discouraged  all  the  time,  and  then  with 
slow  reluctant  steps  turned  about  and  started 
toward  home.  Sobbing  and  distressed  she  ap- 
peared before  Aunt  Ann.  From  her  she  got 
never  a  word  of  rebuke,  but  got  both  comfort 
and  kisses  for  the  mishap. 

With  a  good  deal  of  bustle  the  soiled  stock- 
ings and  shoes  were  presently  replaced  with 
fresh  ones.  But  this  took  time,  and  before  it 
was  completed,  school  hour  was  past. 

"  No  matter  for  to-day,"  said  Aunt  Ann,  cheer- 
ily "  make  yourself  as  happy  as  you  can." 

And  that  Trudge  did.  It  seemed  to  her  she 
never  had  had  such  a  delightful  time.  Totty 
was  charming  and  playful,  and  did  not  once  cry  ; 
the  day  was  cool  and  sunny,  and  she  gave  her 
dolls,  and  Jane's  too,  an  airing ;  and  best  of  all, 
she  was  allowed  to  go  with  her  mother  on  a  drive 
into  the  country,  on  which  trip  she  carried  Jane's 
Juliet  in  her  arms. 

No  school-room,  no  tiresome  sitting  still  with- 
out whispering,  but  all  was  free  and  glad.  "  Oh, 
dear,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  I  don't  want  to  go  to 
school  any  more  !  " 

Next  morning  it  was  plain  that  her  holiday 


A  Bit  of  Discipline.  209 

had  been  a  mistake.  The  old  strange  reluctance 
had  come  back,  and  Mars's  mule  was  more  than 
ever  firmly  planted. 

She  was  loth  and  slow  in  all  her  preparations. 
She  could  not  find  her  book;  Aunt  Ann 
"  pulled  "  dreadfully  in  braiding  her  hair ;  her 
handkerchief  was  lost,  and  it  would  soon  be  nine 
o'clock. 

But  somehow  Aunt  Ann  was  very  kind  and 
helpful.  She  hurried  about  with  energy,  found 
the  missing  things,  and  had  Trudge  despatched, 
in  spite  of  herself,  even  earlier  than  usual. 

But  Trudge  was  sour  and  unwilling.  She  did 
not  twitter,  nor  hop  first  on  one  foot  and  then 
on  another,  as  was  her  habit ;  she  dragged  her 
feet,  scowled  a  deep  mark  into  her  forehead,  and 
went  on  her  way  alone. 

A  naughty  thought  was  in  her  mind,  and  it 
shadowed  her  like  a  black  cloud.  And  it  came 
to  be  more  than  a  thought,  because  she  carried 
it  out.  When  she  came  to  the  wet  crossing,  she 
deliberately  fell  —  or  rather  sat  down  in  the 
mud — just  as  she  had  done  the  day  before  by 
accident. 

You  must  know  she  was  not  very  skilled  or 


210  Heart's    Content. 

ingenious  in  naughtiness,  to  go  and  repeat  the 
same  mishap  ;  had  she  been  she  would  have  de- 
vised a  variety  for  her  programme. 

Of  course,  once  more  the  skirts  and  stockings 
and  shoes  were  stained  and  spoiled.  She  picked 
herself  up,  but  this  time  without  tears  or  dis- 
tress. She  did  not  ponder  what  should  be  done, 
but  turned  at  once  toward  home. 

Again  she  entered  Aunt  Ann's  kind  presence 
with  a  rueful  face,  but  it  was  not  a  sincere 
one. 

"I  fell  down  again,"  she  said,  with  a  look 
rather  more  guilty  than  sorrowful. 

Aunt  Ann  showed  no  suspicion  or  distrust, 
but  went  energetically  to  work,  without,  how- 
ever, any  comfort  or  kisses. 

She  put  fresh  clothes  in  place  of  the  soiled 
ones,  but  they  were  coarser  shoes  and  plainer 
stockings.  They  were  not  nearly  so  pretty  as 
the  ones  which  were  taken  off. 

When  all  was  done,  Aunt  Ann  got  the  sun- 
bonnet  and  book,  and  taking  Trudge's  hand,  set 
out  for  school. 

"  But  it  is  too  late,  now,"  protested  Trudge,  at 
this  unexpected  turn  affairs  were  taking.  She 


A  Bit  of  Discipline.  211 

had  not  counted  upon  being  set  to  rights  sc 
quickly,  nor  upon  being  so  summarily  cheated 
out  of  her  freedom.  Yet  she  could  do  no  less 
than  obey,  and  it  was  not  long  before  she  could 
have  been  seen  taking  rather  longer  strides  than 
were  graceful  or  happy,  but  making  very  good 
speed,  nevertheless,  at  cheerful  Aunt  Ann's  side, 
and  very  near  the  school-room  door. 

She  had  no  time  to  notice  how  warm  and  blue 
the  sky  looked,  but  could  hear  in  a  distant  field 
the  quail  call,  "  wet  my  feet !  "  "  wet  my  feet !  " 

The  cry  of  the  quail  was  a  great  mystery  to 
Trudge.  Aunt  Ann  had  told  them  a  tale  at  one 
time,  in  which  she  chanced  to  say  that  the  quail 
called  out  to  a  runaway  boy,  "  Bob  White  !  Bob 
White ;  "  but  Mars  was  very  certain  it  was  a 
sign  of  rain,  and  that  the  quail  was  a  prophet, 
who  said,  "  more  wet !  more  wet !  "  while  Nanny 
clung  to  the  traditional  "  wet  my  feet !  " 

So  with  a  view  to  making  conversation, 
Trudge  said,  now : 

"  What  is  it  truly  that  the  quail  says  ?  " 

Oh,  what  a  check  to  the  colloquy  was  Aunt 
Ann's  reply : 

"  I  think  he  says,  *  Do  right !    Do  right  I '  " 


212  Heart's  Content. 

As  they  entered  the  school-room  Aunt  Anu 
said  something  in  an  aside  to  the  teacher,  who 
thereupon  seated  Trudge  without  question  or 
reprimand. 

And  there  she  was,  after  all  —  poor  rebellious 
little  Trudge  —  at  the  dull  desk,  and  forbidden 
to  whisper.  How  very  uncomfortable  I  Did  it 
once  suggest  itself  to  her  that  she  had  been  the 
cause  of  discomfort  to  any  one  else  ?  Had  not 
Aunt  Ann  been  annoyed,  and  tired,  and  grieved, 
too,  perhaps  ?  She  was  too  small  to  reason,  and 
fortunately  Aunt  Ann  was  very  patient. 

Now  Trudge,  blind  in  her  baby  stubbornness — 
for  she  was  little  more  than  a  baby,  being  only 
five  years  old  —  had  no  idea  that  Aunt  Ann  had 
read  her  secret;  and  that  she  knew  perfectly 
well  that  the  last  fall  had  been  a  voluntary 
one. 

But  Aunt  Ann  had  seen  from  the  very  start 
the  transparent  little  trick,  and  to  tell  the  truth 
thought  it  wonderfully  cunning  and  ingenious. 
Still,  Trudge  must  not  be  allowed  to  get  wilful, 
nor  to  think  she  could  always  do  as  she 
pleased. 

The  next  morning  found  her  still  in  her  per- 


A  Bit  of  Discipline.  213 

verse  state  of  mind.  Again,  she  started  out 
with  a  grim  little  purpose  in  her  face.  Surely  a 
spirit  of  contrariness  had  entered  into  that 
staunch  and  open  little  heart. 

She  dragged  her  reluctant  feet  over  the  sun- 
warmed  walks ;  she  seemed  pondering  at  every 
step.  At  length  her  decision  was  made. 

She  would  not  sit  down  in  the  mud,  she  would 
not  run  away,  she  would  simply  go  back  home, 
and  would  not  go  to  school. 

So  home  she  went,  after  loitering  until  she 
felt  sure  it  would  be  too  late  for  Aunt  Ann  to 
take  her  back.  Such  a  face  as  she  presented 
when  unexpectedly  she  entered  the  room  where 
mamma  sat  jogging  Totty's  cradle.  Aunt  Ann 
was  arranging  some  flowers,  and  the  room  was 
fragrant  with  the  smell  of  marigolds  and  asters. 
They  were  speaking  of  how  the  autumn  colors 
show  in  flowers  as  well  as  in  the  foliage. 

Aunt  Ann  was  adjusting  the  gorgeous  colors 
in  a  vase,  when  looking  up,  who  should  she  see 
but  Trudge! 

Could  that  be  her  upright  little  girl  who  was 
usually  so  frank,  and  sweet  and  willing  ?  She 
looked  at  the  eyes  —  they  were  troubled  and 


214  Sear? s  Content. 

guilty;  the  mouth  had  a  set  expression,  quite 
out  of  character,  and  dreadful ;  there  was  no 
cheer  or  happiness  in  any  feature,  but  only 
determination. 

Mamma  looked  almost  in  despair,  reproachful, 
disappointed,  grieved.  But  Aunt  Ann  rose  to 
the  occasion,  and  her  face  was  cool,  severe,  and 
not  the  least  loving  and  tender  and  forgiving,  as 
it  had  always  been  before. 

It  was  a  crisis  with  Trudge.  She  stood  there 
with  cheeks  burning,  and  tears  coming  into  her 
eyes.  It  required  no  little  courage  for  so  good 
a  child  to  be  so  naughty. 

Neither  mamma,  nor  Aunt  Ann  spoke ;  but 
both  waited  an  explanation.  So  Trudge  stam- 
mered, clinging  to  all  that  she  possessed  of 
boldness : 

"  I'm  not  going  to  school  any  more. 

"  For  what  reason,  my  dear  ?  "  asked  mamma, 
gently. 

"  I  don't  want  to,"  hesitatingly,  for  to  Aunt 
Ann  that  would  be  no  reason  at  all. 

"Has  anything  happened,  my  child?"  said 
mamma,  in  a  low,  quiet  voice. 

"N-o"  faltered  Trudge. 


A  Bit  of  Discipline.  215 

"  Only  that  you  don't  want  to  "  queried  Aunt 
Ann,  laying  down  her  lovely,  but  unarranged 
flowers  upon  the  table. 

Trudge's  courage  all  oozed  away.  She  had 
never  been  placed  in  such  a  trying  position.  In 
this  final  effort  her  obstinacy  seemed  to  vanish 
like  the  dew  at  noon. 

Aunt  Ann  said  nothing  more.  She  left  the 
room,  and  came  back  properly  attired  for  the 
street.  She  took  Trudge's  unresisting  hand, 
and  led  her  without  a  word  from  the  room. 
Trudge  knew  that  all  had  been  of  no  use ;  and 
that  she  had  got  to  go  to  school,  after  all. 

It  was  not  the  going  to  school  so  much,  with 
Aunt  Ann,  as  it  was  a  matter  of  obedience.  In- 
deed, had  not  Trudge  been  so  persistent  at  the 
outset,  no  one  would  have  thought  of  the  con- 
finement of  school  for  her.  But,  as  it  is  a  part 
of  the  old-fashioned  code,  that  children  must 
obey  their  elders,  now  that  her  not  going  had 
become  a  question  of  authority,  of  course  she 
must  yield. 

And  to  school  she  did  go ;  and  was  led  in 
again,  and  was  obliged  to  listen  while  Aunt  Ann 
said  to  madame: 


216  Heart's  Content. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  tell  you  that  our  little  Trudge 
is  trying  to  play  truant,"  and  then  Aunt  Ann 
added  in  a  lower  voice,  "  I'm  afraid  it  runs  in 
our  family"  —  at  which  both  ladies  smiled,  just 
the  mere  twinkle  of  a  smile. 

Who  could  punish  such  a  wholesome  little 
offender,  as  Trudge?  No  one. 

Madame  said,  "  perhaps  Trudge  does  not  like 
her  seat.  If  so,  I  know  how  we  can  arrange  it," 
and  she  asked  one  of  the  larger  girls  to  fetch  a 
chair,  which  she  pointed  out  at  the  side  of  the 
room. 

This  was  a  pretty  willow  chair,  very  comfor- 
table and  dainty.  Madame  had  it  placed  upon 
the  platform  beside  her  own. 

Now,  the  greatest  favor  which  madarne  could 
show  to  a  pupil  was  to  allow  her  to  sit  at  her 
own  desk.  It  was  reward  enough  for  the  most 
zealous  efforts  in  study,  to  sit  beside  her,  who 
was  so  beautiful  in  those  childish  eyes.  Jane, 
who  gave  so  little  trouble,  was  often  privileged, 
and  sat  by  her  chair  during  recitations,  and  at 
such  times  she  felt  as  supreme  as  a  queen  upon 
a  throne.  Nanny  had  been  known  to  be  more 


A  Bit  of  Discipline.  217 

broken-hearted  over  madame's  refusal  to  let  hei 
occupy  that  place  than  by  any  other  grief  that 
could  have  befallen  her. 

Do  not  all  of  those  little  girl  pupils  —  or  at 
least  all  who  have  not  joined  her  in  the  Life 
Beyond — remember  that  lovely  presence  ?  There 
was  not  a  movement  of  the  white  hands,  nor  a 
glance  of  the  soulful  eyes,  nor  a  ripple  of  the 
soft  curls  by  the  wind,  that  did  not  move  those 
young  hearts  to  worship.  There  was  never  a 
severity  so  dreadful,  as  to  see  reproach  in  her 
glance  —  words  were  not  needed — and  as  I 
have  said,  no  reward  like  being  near  her  —  close 
beside  her,  and  to  feel  her  smile. 

Trudge  was  in  ecstacy.  All  the  "  govern- 
ment" that  could  have  been  brought  to  bear 
upon  her  could  never  have  achieved  the  result 
desired,  as  did  madame's  loving,  gracious 
tact. 

Trudge  was  not  punished :  she  was  understood. 

How  pretty  her  first  reader  was !  How 
favored  was  she  above  all  other  girls  !  She  could 
sit  in  the  willow  chair,  and  close  to  madame's 
side.  She  did  not  care  to  whisper,  even  had 


218  Hear?*  Content. 

there  been  any  one  to  whisper  to.  She  was  quiet 
as  a  mouse.  Even  when  Nanny  tried  to  tele- 
graph some  signal  to  her  —  which  from  the 
extraordinary  display  of  her  two  rows  of  white 
teeth,  must  have  been  desperately  funny  — 
Trudge  kept  her  gravity.  To  be  sure  she  did 
not  see  Nanny,  never  being  able  to  see  anything 
much  beyond  her  own  nose ;  but  if  she  had  seen 
and  had  understood,  she  was  too  conscientious 
and  happy  to  laugh.  She  liked  to  go  to  school 
now  I 

Aunt  Ann  returned  home,  feeling  that  the 
perplexing  riddle  was  solved.  With  her  puri- 
tanical notions  she  would  have  striven  with 
Trudge  to  the  bitter  end  —  I  had  almost  said  of 
a  whipping;  but  that  is  altogether  too  much. 
Trudge  would  have  held  out,  Aunt  Ann  would 
have  persisted.  And  no  one  knows  how  it 
would  have  ended. 

Now  at  one  stroke  of  the  swift  sword  of  tact 

5 

which  has  severed  more  than  one  Gordian  knot, 
the  troublesome  tangle  had  been  cut  in  twain. 

It  is  doubtful  if  Trudge  ever  knew  she  had 
been  naughty.  Certain  it  is  that  thereafter 


A  Bit  of  Discipline.  219 

nothing  short  of  force  could  have  kept  her  from 
school,  even  though,  after  a  day  or  two,  she  was 
returned  to  her  old  seat.  Mars  forgot  his 
cognomen  of  mule,  and  Aunt  Ann  took  greater 
pride  in  her  than  ever. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

A  WRONG  STOEY. 

"  Ah,  he  who  laughs  at  crooked  men 
Must  needs  walk  very  straight." 

THERE  was  something  in  the  way  in  which 
Mars  twisted  himself  into  his  little  jacket 
that  morning,  that  foreboded  mischief.  Either 
he  had  slept  too  well,  and  was  rested  up  for  his 
day's  campaign,  or  else  he  had  not  slept  well 
enough,  and  was  nervous  in  consequence. 

At  any  rate,  the  energy  with  which  he  stamped 
into  his  boots,  and  splashed  the  water  over  his 
face  and  close-clipped  hair,  meant,  at  least,  that 
he  did  not  intend  to  be  caught  napping  that 
day. 


A  Wrong  Story.  221 

At  breakfast  he  bolted  in  a  dreadful  manner. 
He  took  a  scalding  mouthful  of  coffee,  and 
when  it  burned  him,  took  immediately  thereafter 
a  swallow  of  cold  water. 

His  mother  protested : 

"  Oh,  Mars,  you  must  not  do  so ! "  when  he 
replied  : 

"  All  the  modern  conveniences,  mamma ;  hot 
and  cold  water." 

After  this  he  was  ready  to  be  off.  Perhaps 
what  stimulated  him  was  the  fact  that  the  nights 
were  growing  frosty,  and  the  mornings  were 
sparkling  and  fresh. 

This  was  the  day  of  all  play  and  no  school — 
Saturday.  Other  mornings  dragged  ;  they  were 
quite  likely  to  bring  headaches  and  toe  aches, 
groans,  and  "  tired  "  excuses ;  but  Saturdays  — 
lowered  they  ever  so  dark  with  rain,  began 
several  hours  earlier  in  the  morning,  and  ended 
at  least  two  hours  later  at  night,  than  did  any 
other  day  of  the  week. 

Well,  as  I  said,  Mars  was  off.  He  was  ranging 
the  neighborhood  for  his  favorite  playmate,  Jack 
Heather.  His  sturdy,  stumpy  little  body  was 


222  Heart's  Content. 

never,  by  any  means,  mercury-footed  for  light- 
ness, but  this  morning,  in  particular,  he  con- 
vinced every  one  within  hearing  that  he  was 
shod  in  good  strong  boots. 

Aunt  Ann  gave  an  exclamation  of  relief  as  he 
banged  out  of  the  door,  and  Jane  ran  to  the 
window  to  watch  the  lighthouse  of  his  head,  as 
he  stood  over  in  their  neighbor's  door-yard, 
whistling  shrilly  through  his  fingers  for  Jack, 
who  was  still  at  breakfast. 

I  must  premise,  before  entering  upon  this 
day's  events,  that  Mars  had  never  been  known 
to  tell  a  lie,  even  though,  by  doing  so,  he  might 
have  escaped  punishment,  or  other  disagreeable 
results.  This  was  the  anchorage  of  all  con- 
cerned in  him  ;  for  if  that  tendency  had  been 
added  to  his  other  positive  qualities  for  getting 
into  mischief,  it  would  have  been  a  trying  case 
indeed.  He  was  never  even  known  to  shirk  or 
to  evade ;  he  would  stand  by  the  truth,  even 
when  it  shamed  and  humiliated  him. 

But  the  day  following  this  very  stirring  morn- 
ing, Mars  deviated  from  this  rule.  He  told  a 
wrong  story. 


A  Wrong  Story.  223 

In  the  not  very  near  neighborhood  of  Heart's 
Content,  but  within  several  blocks,  lived  a 
family  of  the  name  of  Victor. 

This  family  was  made  up  of  seven,  or  more, 
3hildren,  who  were  dirty  and  neglected,  and 
counted  as  very  undesirable  in  every  way.  They 
were  the  dread  of  mothers  in  that  entire  vicinity, 
because  they  were  given  to  bad  language,  pil- 
fering, and  many  other  uncomfortable  habits, 
and  set,  withal,  such  an  open  example  of  low- 
ness,  that  they  were  shunned  and  blamed  on  all 
occasions. 

Mars  scorned  to  play  with  them,  and  was 
never  seen  in  their  company.  It  is  true  he  had 
"  licked "  one  of  the  larger  ones  for  jostling 
Jane,  and  crowding  her  off  the  side-walk  one 
day,  in  some  rude  boy  frolic ;  but  further  than 
that,  he  had  no  association  with  them. 

Jack  Heather,  after  some  delay,  responded  to 
Mars's  whistle,  and  came  out. 

They  debated  whether  they  should  go  nutting 
or  to  the  pond,  and  finally  decided  on  the  pond. 
That  afforded  a  variety  of  water-side  play,  such 
as  skipping  stones,  building  sand-forts,  and  sail- 
ing on  rafts  made  of  pieces  of  boards.  What 


224  Heart's  Content. 

one  could  not  think  of,  the  other  could,  and  the 
forenoon  passed  briskly  until  ten  o'clock. 

Then  Mars  began  to  be  hungry  —  the  only 
thing  that  ever  made  him  willing  to  go  home. 
lie  made  known  the  fact  to  Jack,  and  as  that 
very  knowledge  made  him  hungry  too,  they 
started.  In  taking  a  "  short  cut  "  they  passed  a 
German  house,  where  the  large  side-yard  was  full 
of  grape-vines,  and  the  vines  very  full  of  great 
ripe  clusters  of  grapes. 

You  have  read,  no  doubt,  how  the  Greek  hero, 
Achilles,  was  vulnerable  only  in  his  heel;  and 
how  Siegfried,  the  Scandinavian,  had  a  weak 
spot  between  his  shoulders,  caused  from  a  linden 
leaf  falling  there  during  his  bath  in  dragon's 
blood  ;  well,  I  have  often  thought  that  all  boys 
must,  figuratively,  have  had  a  linden  leaf  fall  on 
their  stomachs,  instead  of  their  backs,  so  vulner- 
able are  they  there  to  even  the  puny  assaults  of 
green  apples,  water  melons,  grapes,  and  the  like. 
It  was  so  with  Mars  and  Jack,  at  least ;  for  at 
once  they  began  gazing  and  lingering,  as  if  their 
mouths  watered  over  something. 

The  grapes  were  in  purple  ripeness  and  pro- 
fusion, and  the  very  sight  of  them  seemed  to 


A  Wrong  Story.  225 

cast  a  sorcery  over  them  that  held  them  to  the 
place.  Mars  was,  indeed,  very  hungry,  and  he 
could  have  almost  devoured  his  friend  Jack ; 
while  Jack  was  so  nearly  famished,  Mars  would 
have  been  a  mere  mouthful  to  him. 

They  peered  and  reconnoitered  and  discussed 
the  big  bunches,  until  at  length  Jack  announced 
his  intention  of  helping  himself  to  just  one  stem. 
Mars  thought  it  dreadful,  yet  he  offered  no 
protest. 

There  was  not  a  sign  of  life  about  the  house, 
and  they  forgot,  or  possibly  did  not  know,  that 
apparently  blank-looking  windows  may  have 
very  keen  eyes  behind  them.  So  Jack  climbed 
nimbly  over  the  fence,  and  Mars,  very  much 
absorbed  in  watching  him,  perched  himself  on 
the  top,  midway  between  safety  and  temptation. 
His  position  was  somewhat  critical,  as  he  was 
astride  where  a  picket  had  been  broken  out. 

Jack  was  but  a  little  fellow,  and  the  vines 
quite  hid  him ;  when  all  at  once,  to  Mars's 
great  surprise,  a  very  stern-looking  woman  stood 
directly  in  front  of  him.  She  seemed  to  come 
out  of  the  ground,  he  thought,  as  he  had  neither 
heard  nor  seen  anything  of  her  approach. 


226  Hearts  Content. 

Jack  had  heard  from  the  first,  and  had  slipped 
slyly  from  the  shelter  of  one  vine  to  another  ; 
and  was,  even  now,  in  the  act  of  getting  out  at 
another  corner  of  the  garden,  leaving  Mars  to 
face  the  music  alone. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here  ?  "  said  the  woman, 
fiercely. 

*'  Nothing,"  replied  Mars,  stoutly. 

"  Nothing !  "  she  cried ;  "  you.  are  stealing  my 
grapes,  and  I  have  caught  you  at  it ! " 

"  I  haven't  touched  your  grapes !  "  retorted 
Mars,  beginning  to  blaze  up,  and  feeling  a  rush 
like  a  hot  wind  under  the  crown  of  his  hat. 

"  Well,  if  you  haven't,  you  meant  to,"  said 
the  apparently  angry  woman.  "Now  I  want 
to  know  whose  boy  you  are.  I'll  teach  boys  to 
get  over  my  fence,  and  carry  off  my  grapes !  " 

It  came  over  Mars  now  that  his  position  was 
a  very  suspicious  one,  to  say  the  least.  Jack 
was  gone,  and  he  had  no  one  to  help  him  out ; 
he  was  on  the  fence,  and  in  such  shape  he  could 
not  easily  get  down.  If  he  had  not  intended 
to  take  any  grapes,  still  it  would  be  hard  to 
convince  the  woman  of  that ;  and,  moreover,  he 
had  allowed  Jack  to  do  it,  without  a  word  of 


A  Wrong  Story.  227 

dissent.  Indeed,  he  had  sat  looking  on,  and  by 
that  very  fact  had  abetted  and  sanctioned  it. 

He  began  to  feel  ashamed,  as  he  realized  it ; 
oh,  so  ashamed  !  He  would  have  given  any- 
thing to  be  out  of  it,  he  felt  guilty,  mean, 
mortified ;  indeed,  he  had  never  been  placed 
before  where  he  could  not  even  excuse  himself 
to  himself. 

What  would  his  mother,  what  would  Jane 
say?  He,  Mars,  accused  of  stealing  grapes? 
The  disgrace  would  be  dreadful — as  bad,  almost, 
as  if  it  had  been  true.  How  could  he  explain  ! 
how  could  he  have  them  know  !  All  this  passed 
over  him  in  a  flash,  as  it  were. 

"Come,*'  said  the  woman,  drawing  nearer 
with  a  deep  frown,  "  I  want  to  know  whose  boy 
you  are." 

"  I'm — I'm  "  —  stammered  Mars,  "  I'm  one  of 
the  Victor  boys!" 

"  I'll  find  out  whether  you're  one  of  the  Vic- 
tor boys  or  not,"  retorted  the  woman,  with  a 
doubting  scowl,  as  Mars  skipped  from  his  perch, 
and  walked  dejectedly  away. 

Now,  this  woman  who  had  seemed  so  fierce, 
was,  in  fact,  a  very  kind-hearted  person,  and 


228  Heart's  Content. 

knew  who  Mars  was  all  the  time,  having  been 
many  times  under  obligation  to  Mrs.  Lawrence, 
in  sickness  and  trouble.  Still,  she  did  not  think 
it  would  do  to  let  it  go  in  this  way,  and  that  it 
would  be  best  for  Mars  to  learn  that  he  could 
not  shift  his  mischief  so  easily  to  other  shoul- 
ders. So  she  put  on  her  bonnet,  and  followed 
him  home. 

He  had  just  got  into  the  house,  tired  and 
excited,  and  was  launching  out  with  a  relish 
into  a  big  slice  of  bread  and  butter,  when  he 
saw  her  coming  in  at  the  back  gate. 

To  say  that  he  was  no  longer  hungry,  and 
that  he .  quickly  disappeared  through  the  front 
door,  is  only  to  express  a  little  of  his  shame 
and  dismay. 

His  escape  was  related  to  Mrs.  Lawrence,  as 
softened  as  it  could  be  by  the  woman,  who  really 
liked  the  up-and-down,  hot-cheeked  way  in  which 
Mars  denied  taking  her  grapes,  and  who  could 
not  overcome  her  merriment  at  his  quick-witted 
effort  to  shade  disgrace. 

"  He'll  make  a  great  man,"  she  said,  in  broken 
German,  no  doubt  intending  to  convey  the  idea 
that  he  was  very  smart. 


A  Wrong  Story.  229 

She  laughed  again,  and  again.  The  Victor 
boys  were  such  known  pilferers  that  their  repu- 
tation could  not  well  be  made  worse,  and  there 
was  something  very  ludicrous  to  her  in  the 
thought  of  that  clean,  fair,  straightforward,  well- 
dressed  little  scamp,  trying  to  make  any  one 
believe  he  belonged  to  the  lean,  swarthy,  dirty, 
ill-dressed  crew  of  Victor  boys ! 

Mrs.  Lawrence  was  shocked  and  grieved, 
notwithstanding  the  woman's  efforts  to  smooth 
over  the  affair.  It  seemed  dreadful  to  her  that 
Mars  should  tell  a  falsehood,  and  yet  she  could 
not  help  a  warm  thought  of  love  going  out  to 
him  for  the  very  deed  itself,  since  she  knew  by 
instinct,  so  well  his  mixture  of  motives  —  self- 
respect,  love  for  his  mother,  and  scorn  for  even 
the  appearance  of  doing  a  mean  act. 

But  Mars  was  like  a  haunted  boy,  he  could 
not  go  home,  and  he  could  not  play,  but  was 
pursued  with  shame ;  until  finally  his  open 
nature  triumphed,  and  he  turned  suddenly  acd 
went  to  his  mother. 

He  felt  from  the  first  look  at  her  face  that  she 
knew  all,  and  so  he  plunged  at  once  into  hia 
dory. 


L'30  Heart's    Content. 

"  That  woman  told  you  I  told  a  lie,  and  I  did. 
f  didn't  touch  a  grape,  and  I  told  her  I  didn't ; 
but  she  wouldn't  believe  me.  Besides  I  was  on 
the  fence,  and  I  knew  she  would  come  and  tell 
3rou,  and  I  didn't  want  you  to  find  out  that  any 
one  even  thought  I  could  do  such  a  thing  —  such 
a  mean  thing  —  and  so  I  tried  to  make  her  be- 
lieve I  was  a  Victor  boy." 

Aunt  Ann,  who  sat  with  her  needlework  in 
her  hands,  had  not  even  a  frown,  but  turned  as 
if  to  get  better  light  on  her  work.  Mars  was 
planted  like  a  very  small  Colossus,  fair,  and 
square  in  front  of  his  mother.  He  blushed  a 
good  deal,  but  they  were  open  and  honest 
blushes,  not  hidden  and  ashamed  ones. 

"  But  the  Victor  boys  ; "  said  Mrs.  Lawrence, 
"  was  it  honorable  toward  them,  when  they  had 
nothing  to  do  with  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  answered  Mars,  coolly,  "  they  steal 
all  the  time — it  didn't  hurt  them  any." 

"  I  am  not  so  sure,"  she  said. 

"But  that  isn't  it,  mamma,"  he  went  on,  his 
lips  beginning  to  quiver.  "  I  told  the  lie,  and  I 
am  very  sorry." 

She  found  it  impossible  to  get  any  other  idea 


A  Wrong  Story.  231 

of  wrong  into  his  head,  except  the  wrong  of  a 
falsehood.  Of  the  Victor  boys  he  persisted  that 
it  might  have  been  them ;  and  she  was  obliged 
to  confine  his  penitence  to  the  only  thing  for 
which  he  had  any  regret.  But  she  took  this 
opportunity  to  urge  him  never  to  tell  a  white  lie, 
even  with  a  good  motive. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


o 


THE  FUNNT  MASK. 
'  'A  cares  not  what  mischief  he  doth." 
NE   luckless  day,  as  Nanny  stepped  her 
buoyant  way  home  from  school,  she  over- 
heard some  boys  in  the  street  talking  and  laugh- 
ing in  great  glee,  over  their  pranks.    The  tempt- 
ation was  great  to  know  what  had  been  so  funny, 
and  so  she  slackened  her  pace  to  hear. 

"  Scared  almost  to  death,"  was  one  of  the 
exclamations  ;  "  Why,  we  thought  he'd  die  I  " 
was  another,  followed  by  delighted  bursts  of 
laughter.  Then,  walking  very  slowly,  she  heard 
the  words  "dough  face."  That  seed  dropped 
upon  the  fruitful  soil  of  Nanny's  mischief, 
232 


The  Funny  Mask.  233 

sprouted  at  once,  and  grew,  like  Jack's  bean- 
stalk, to  an  incredible  height  in  a  very  short 
time.  She  apprehended  that  a  dough  face  was  a 
frightful  mask,  made  as  hideous  as  the  maker 
chose,  and  she  resolved  to  have  one,  and  to 
wear  it. 

No  opportunity  happened  that  night,  but  next 
day  she  begged  some  dough  of  the  girl  in  the 
kitchen,  rolled  it  out  very  thin  and  pressed  it 
over  her  own  face,  pinching  out  a  long  nose, 
however,  over  her  own  brief  pug.  This  face  she 
dried  in  the  oven,  having  cut  out  great  hollows 
for  eyes,  and  a  gaunt  cavern  for  a  mouth. 

"  How  it  will  scare  Jane ! "  she  thought, 
exultingly. 

All  day  long  this  plotting  kept  her  very  merry. 
She  hinted  to  Don  of  a  great  secret  that  would 
astonish  him  before  many  days.  She  piqued 
Mars's  curiosity  at  first,  and  later  threw  him 
into  a  hot  passion  by  telling  him  that  she  knew 
something  —  oh,  so  funny  —  but  could  not  tell 
him  because  he  was  sure,  always,  to  tell  every- 
thing he  knew  to  Jane.  Trudge  and  Jane  were 
to  be  her  victims  —  Jane  in  particular,  she  was 
so  credulous  and  easily  duped. 


234  Hearts  Content. 

There  was  no  malice  in  this ;  but  only  to 
think  of  seeing  Jane  jump  and  scream,  and  be- 
lieve it  was  a  ghost,  was  enough  to  make  her 
nerves  tingle  with  delight.  Her  own  frights 
always  ended  in  a  laugh,  and  to  be  startled,  or 
to  startle  any  one  else,  seemed  to  her  the  rarest 
kind  of  "  fun." 

Now  the  question  arose,  when  could  she 
appear  in  it?  Jane  had  not  felt  very  well  all 
day,  and  might  go  to  bed  very  early.  This 
fidgetted  Nanny,  and  she  tried  to  force  circum- 
stances into  favoring  her. 

The  days  had  grown  shorter,  and  the  dews 
were  very  heavy  and  dull.  Already  slight  fires 
had  been  lighted  in  the  sitting-room  at  nightfall, 
and  lamp-light  had  grown  to  seem  very  cosy 
and  cheerful.  Perhaps  after  they  were  all  col- 
lected for  their  evening  study,  or  reading,  would 
be  the  best  time. 

So  Nanny  was  particular  to  announce  that  she 
must  study  very  hard  that  night.  That  was 
enough,  of  course,  to  make  Jane  think  she  must 
do  the  same.  As  soon  as  the  lamp  was  lighted, 
they  gathered  round  the  table  with  their  books 
and  slates.  Trudge  spelled  her  long  words  out 


The  Funny  Mask.  235 

loud,  which  though  a  possible  help  to  her  was  a 
great  hindrance  and  interruption  to  the  rest. 
Mars  was  not  there,  as  he  had  lingered  longer 
than  usual  over  the  delivery  of  his  newspapers. 
Nanny's  plan  seemed  likely  to  work  very  well. 
As  to  her  books,  she  could  not  have  told  whether 
they  were  right  side  up  or  not,  so  intent  was  she 
upon  her  frolic. 

At  last  she  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  Jane 
buried  deep  in  thought  over  a  sum.  Out  she 
slipped,  unnoticed,  got  the  dough  face,  and  came 
round  to  the  dining-room  window,  which  was 
long,  almost  to  the  floor. 

From  the  outside  she  looked  in  upon  the 
group  about  the  table.  They  were  all  quiet  and 
busy,  except  when  Trudge  launched  out  a  two- 
syllabled  projectile,  when  both  the  quiet  and  the 
industry  were  interrupted.  Jane  had  to  pause 
in  the  patient  addition  and  subtraction  of  her 
fingers,  and  then  go  back  and  do  the  work  all 
over  again. 

Aunt  Ann  had  come  in  and  sat  reading  a 
letter.  This  was  not  agreeable  to  Nanny ;  but 
then  she  stood  very  little  in  awe  of  Aunt  Ann. 
She  could  see  that  Jane's  forehead  had  a  grave, 


236  Heart's    Content. 

studious  frown  upon  it,  and  that  she  was  much 
absorbed. 

Then  she  held  the  dough  face  before  her  own, 
and  rubbed  it  slightly  against  the  glass  to  call 
attention  to  the  window. 

Trudge  looked  up  first,  and  shrieked.  Then 
Jane  glanced  to  the  window,  and  there  was  the 
hideous,  ghastly  face  so  white  and  terrible,  that 
she  sprang  up,  and,  throwing  out  her  arms  gave 
one  weak  cr}r,  and  fell  prostrate  on  the  floor. 

Nanny  saw  her  with  dismay.  She  flung  the 
face  from  her  and  cried,  "  Oh,  Jane,  it's  me  !  it's 
me  !  "  Aunt  Ann.  whose  back  was  to  the  win- 
dow, had  seen  nothing,  but  she  sprang  to  lift 
Jane  up  as  Nanny  burst  into  the  room,  and  Mrs. 
Lawrence  came  flying  from  Totty's  cradle  to  see 
what  had  happened. 

"  Oh,  mother,  I  did  it,  I  did  it,"  Nanny  cried. 
"  I  only  wanted  to  frighten  her  a  little  !  " 

Aunt  Ann  lifted  Jane  in  her  arms,  all  white 
and  deathlike,  and  every  atom  of  color  left 
Nanny's  face  at  the  sight.  She  was  sure — oh, 
so  horribly  sure  —  that  Jane  was  dead,  and  that 
she  had  killed  her. 

"  Some     water,    Nanny,   quick  !  "    said    her 


The  Funny  Mask.  237 

mother ;  but  Nanny  could  not  stir.  Her  heart 
was  like  a  lump  of  stone. 

Mrs.  Lawrence,  still  in  the  dark  as  to  what  it 
all  meant,  but  certain  from  Nann^^'s  agitation 
that  it  was  some  wild  prank  of  hers,  got  the 
water  herself  and  dashed  it  into  Jane's  face  ;  but 
it  did  not  rouse  her.  Then  they  put  ammonia 
upon  her  temples  and  nostrils,  which  brought 
her  to  consciousness  with  a  shudder. 

Nanny  ran  away  by  herself  in  the  dark  and 
moaned  and  cried.  Mars  coming  in  just  then, 
was  sent  to  fetch  a  doctor.  Trudge  sat  like  a 
little  monument,  with  her  fat  hands  in  her  little 
fat  lap,  and  said  never  a  word  until  after  all  the 
panic  was  over,  when  she  began  sobbing  gently 
to  herself,  and  kept  it  up  far  into  the  night. 

As  soon  as  Jane  could  listen,  and  could  see 
that  her  mother  was  bending  over  her  —  trying 
to  smile  so  that  she  might  be  reassured  —  Aunt 
Ann  told  her  that  what  she  saw  was  only  Nanny, 
who  thought  it  would  be  a  great  joke  to  frighten 
her ;  that  she  must  not  be  afraid  any  more,  for 
Nanny  felt  so  very  sorry  about  it. 

But  still  she  shuddered,  and  looked  wildly 
about  her,  and  it  took  a  long  time  to  calm  her. 


238  Heart's   Content. 

It  was  an  hour,  or  more,  before  she  spoke,  and 
then  her  mind  seemed  confused,  for  she  asked : 

«  Will  they  give  Nanny  a  black  mark  ?  " 

Nanny  wandered  restlessly  to  and  fro  between 
her  own  room  and  her  mother's,  where  the 
shaded  lamp  showed  watching  and  anxiety.  No 
amount  of  persuasion  could  get  her  to  go  to 
bed. 

Mars  took  occasion  to  read  her  a  lecture  on 
behavior,  which  she  had  not  the  spirit  to 
resent : 

"  Nanny,  may  be  you'll  learn  some  time,  after 
you've  made  every  body  all  the  trouble  you  can, 
that  you  can't  always  be  getting  into  mischief. 
I  never  saw  such  a  girl  as  you  are.  You're  for- 
ever running  away,  or  poking  into  hornet's 
nests,  or  climbing  trees.  Jane  never  does  any- 
thing. 

"  I  know  it,"  sobbed  Nanny.  "  I  don't  see 
why  I  act  so." 

This  disaster  was  so  unexpected,  so  dreadful. 
To  think  she  should  have  hurt  her  pale  little 
sister,  perhaps  killed  her,  when  she  only  meant 
it  in  fun,  nearly  broke  her  heart.  She  could 
not,  with  all  her  keen  sense  of  the  ludicrous,  see 


The  Funny  Mask.  339 

the  absurdity  of  Mars's  homily,  which  at  any 
other  time  would  have  called  out  the  full  fire  of 
her  wit. 

But  Jane  was  not  killed  ;  she  was  only  terribly 
shocked.  Still  the  results  were  serious,  for  a 
slow  form  of  fever  set  in,  and  she  lay  for  many 
days  in  a  startled  wakeful  state,  terrified  at  the 
least  noise,  and  looking  about  her  as  if  she 
thought,  at  any  minute,  some  hideous  apparition 
might  appear.  Especially  was  she  nervous  if 
all  the  curtains  were  not  closely  drawn  at 
nightfall. 

This  was  overcome  in  time,  however,  and  the 
convalescence  was  a  period  which  proved  that 
Nanny  was  not  all  heedlessness  or  thoughtless- 
ness. She  explained  over  and  over  again  to 
Jane  that  she  was  only  "  in  fun,"  and  did  not 
mean  to  scare  her. 

One  good  was  gained,  which  could  hardly 
have  been  expected  from  such  a  fright  —  Jane 
never  thereafter  believed  in  ghosts.  The  thing 
she  had  felt  sure  was  a  ghost,  in  that  one  appall- 
ing moment,  had  proven  to  be  only  Nanny,  who 
certainly  had  nothing  unearthly  about  her. 

And  when,  after  that,   there  were   noises   or 


240  Heart's  Content. 

sights  she  could  not  understand,  her  suspicions 
were  at  once  aroused  that  either  Nanny  or  Mars 
had  something  to  do  with  it,  and  were  trying  to 
tease  her. 

The  lesson  was  more  serious  with  frolic-loving 
Nanny,  for  she  sometimes  stopped  to  think,  after 
that,  and  did  not  go  so  headlong  into  fun  as  she 
had  been  wont.  Where  she  had  been  oftentimes 
absolutely  cruel  in  her  high  health  and  spirit, 
she  became  more  moderate,  and  considerate. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE  CHRISTMAS  STOCKING. 

"  The  simple  creed 
Of  childood,  whether  busy  or  at  rest, 
With  new-fledged  hope  still  fluttering  in  his  breast." 

JANE  sat  knitting  —  rocking  and  knitting. 
She  made  a  quaint,  old-fashioned  picture  in 
her  little  chair,  with  her  old-fashioned  work  in 
her  small  fingers.  Industr}r  itself,  is  somewhat 
old-fashioned  now ;  and  if  to-day  you  could  see 
her  as  she  was,  she  might  look  odd  and  anti- 
quated enough.  But  at  that  time  grandmotherly 
ways  were  not  30  rare. 

For  many   a  day  lately,   knitting  had  been 
Jane's  great  duty  and  delight.   The  cold  weather 
241 


242  Heart's  Content. 

had  come ;  the  ground  was  frozen  hard,  and 
from  the  gray  November  sky,  already  a  light 
sifting  of  snow  had  fallen. 

The  snow  suggested  Christmas.  To  a  little 
mind  not  much  given  to  close  calculation,  or  to 
any  understanding  of  exact  season  or  time,  the 
mere  fact  that  at  Christmas  there  was  generally 
snow,  brought  about  the  inference  that  snow 
must  speedily  bring  Christmas. 

And  that  will  account  for  Jane's  industrious 
preparation. 

Her  fingers  were  nimble  and  swift ;  and  she 
held,  meanwhile,  the  great,  loafing  kitten,  almost 
as  large  as  herself,  in  her  lap,  and  rocked  back 
and  forth.  She  needed  but  a  pair  of  glasses  and 
a  dust  of  white  powder  on  her  hair,  to  make  a 
small,  old  woman  of  her. 

That  she  was  tired  there  could  be  no  doubt, 
as  now  and  then  a  long  sigh  escaped  her ;  yet 
Tom  did  not  heed  it,  as  he  liked  being  hovered 
and  tended.  For  that  reason,  he  rubbed  forth  a 
gentle,  sleepy  purr  whenever  she  in  changing 
her  position  moved  him  ever  so  little. 

Her  work  seemed  to  perplex  her,  for  she  fre- 


The   Christmas    Stocking.  243 

quently   examined   it.      What   could  it  be?  — 
something  for  Totty,  or  possibly  for  Mars? 

No,  I  may  as  well  tell  it  at  once.  She  was 
knitting  a  stocking  for  her  cat. 

Nor  was  this  the  first  one.  At  the  earliest 
whiff  of  cold  weather,  she  had  taken  time  by 
the  forelock,  and  had  begun  to  provide  for  the 
inclement  season.  And  this  was  the  fourth 
stocking,  now  almost  completed.  You  see,  in 
the  matter  of  numbers,  Tom  required  as  many 
as  twins. 

True,  his  feet  and  legs  were  covered  with  a 
thick  Maltese  fur,  and  he  never  had  coughs  and 
colds  from  getting  them  wet,  but  Jane's  heart 
was  quite  sore  over  his  going  out  so  poorly  clad 
in  wintry  weather.  So  for  a  Christmas  present, 
she  was  knitting  him  some  stockings  —  four 
long  white  stockings,  and  the  last  one  was  now 
nearly  finished. 

A  cat  with  such  a  loving  little  mistress  should 
have  been  very  grateful,  but  he  had  never  shown 
even  so  much  as  a  sniff  of  curiosity  as  to  her 
work.  Now  and  then,  he  had  stirred  her  ball 
with  a  playful  paw,  or  had  tried  to  capture  her 
bright  needles.  This,  she  thought  precociously 


244  Heart's    Content. 

cunning  and  intelligent,  and  would  cover  his 
eyes  with  her  hand,  and  say : 

"  Tommy,  Tommy,  you  mustn't  look  !  " 

It  grew  quite  dark  as  she  took  the  last  stitches 
in  toeing  off  the  last  stocking.  Her  fingers  were 
too  tired  to  have  done  much  more. 

Nanny  came  tumbling  in  from  her  hoydenish 
run  from  school,  Trudge  in  active  chase,  while 
Mars  flung  after  them  such  snow  as  he  could 
gather  together,  much  mixed,  however,  with 
dead  leaves  and  sticks. 

Jane  could  not  go  to  school  any  more,  because 
she  had  a  cough,  which  the  keen  air  made  worse, 
So  she  said  her  lessons,  in  a  class  of  one,  to 
Aunt  Ann. 

As  the  noisy  flock  came  trooping  in,, bringing 
a  rush  of  cold  and  freshness,  Jane  held  up  her 
completed  work,  and  they  all  gathered  round 
her  admiringly.  The  newly-finished  article 
together  with  the  other  three,  made  quite  an 
array,  and  they  were  well-made,  and  very 
shapely  indeed. 

"Let's  try  them   on!"  was   Trudge's   quick 


The   Christmas   Stocking.  245 

"  Oh,  no,"  protested  Jane,  alarmed,  "  it's  a 
surprise  —  it's  for  Christmas." 

"  But  Christmas  is  weeks  away "  cried 
Nanny,  "Tom  will  catch  his  death-cold,  going 
barefooted,  before  that." 

At  this  juncture,  Tom,  hearing  the  rattling  of 
a  milk-pail,  or  some  other  suggestive  sound  in 
the  kitchen,  bounded  from  his  warm  nest  and 
was  out  of  the  door  in  a  twinkling.  They  could 
hear  his  plaintive  mewing,  which  had  a  shame- 
fully deceptive  tone  of  famine  in  it,  considering 
his  plump  ribs,  and  glossy  fur. 

He  could  not  be  captured  again  until  after 
supper,  and  so  the  trying  on  was  deferred. 

When  the  lamps  were  lighted,  and  there  was 
a  genial  wood-fire  in  the  fire-place,  the  subject 
recurred  again.  Jane  went  out  to  the  kitchen 
settle,  where  Tom  had  curled  himself  up  like  a 
caterpillar  to  digest  his  saucer  of  milk,  and  she 
brought  him  in  to  the  firelight,  and  sat  down 
with  him  on  the  floor. 

He  was  drowsy  and  unresisting  as  usual,  and, 
with  little  effort,  the  stockings  were  soon 
neatly  on. 

He  stood  still  for  a  minute  ;  staggered  a  few 


246  Heart's  Content. 

steps,  and  then  shook  first  one  hind  foot  and 
then  the  other,  leaving  two  stockings  on  the 
floor.  But  this  was  not  enough ;  he  lifted  one 
fore-paw  with  a  little  quiver,  and  that  stocking 
was  off !  And  lazy  Tom  walked  away ! 

Don  roared,  and  Nanny  shouted,  and  Trudge 
almost  went  into  spasms,  and  even  Totty  crowed, 
but  poor  Jane,  she  had  tears  to  hide ;  and  she 
sorrowfully  gathered  up  her  discarded  gifts, 
smothering  a  heavy  sob,  while  Tom  jumped 
into  the  most  available  easy-chair,  and  went  to 
sleep.  All  that  work  wasted  —  what  an  un- 
grateful child ! 

Mars  pitied  Jane,  and  so  sought  for  a  crumb 
of  comfort  out  of  this  bitter  bread  of  ingrati- 
tude. 

"I  say,  Janey,"  he  called,  as  he  saw  her  mak- 
ing believe  to  busy  herself  in  a  shady  corner 
of  the  room,  where  in  truth  she  had  retreated 
so  that  her  face  could  not  be  seen  —  "I  say, 
Janey,  you  can  hang  up  those  stockings  for 
your  dolls  on  Christmas  Eve  !  " 

That  was  a  stroke  of  genius  ;  it  brought  her 
out  from  the  shadow  with  a  face  full  of  light. 

"  Oh,   yes  !  "    she  cried,    joyfully ;    "  one  for 


The   Christmas   Stocking.  247 

Rose,  one  for  Neida,  one  for  Juliet,  and  one  — 
for  Tom !  If  he  won't  wear  the  stockings,  he 
shall  have  one  to  hang  for  Santa  Glaus,  and 
maybe  he'll  get  a  mouse  in  it — he  loves  mice." 

This  reconciled  Jane  to  her  failure;  but  the 
word  Santa  Glaus  opened  a  discussion  which 
grew  so  warm  as  it  progressed,  that  it  had  to 
be  referred  to  the  heads  of  the  family  for 
settlement. 

••  Santa  Glaus  !  "  said  Don,  with  an  air  of 
superior  wisdom,  and  with  something  of  a  sneer, 
"  there  is  no  Santa  Glaus  !  " 

"  Yes,  there  is  !  "  said  Trudge,  instantly,  and 
with  energy.  "  Yes,  there  is ! " 

Nanny,  who,  since  Don  was  getting  ready  for 
college,  believed  at  heart  that  he  was  infallible, 
though  she  was  not  willing  to  concede  so  much 
in  her  manner,  had  her  curiosity  aroused  by 
this  bold  assertion,  and  asked  : 

"Why  isn't  there,  Don?  and  how  do  you 
know?" 

"Why,  I  know  there  isn't  1"  he  answered, 
"You  hang  your  stockings  round  the  chimney, 
and  father  and  mother  fill  them." 

"  O-o-o-oh !  "  said  Trudge,  with  wide  eyes, 


2-J8  Heart's  Content. 

shocked  at  such  heresy.  "  Oh,  Don,  that's  a 
story ! " 

"  It  isn't  a  story,  either,  Dumpling ;  go  and 
ask  them  yourself." 

Mars  had  not  spoken  as  yet,  but  he  was  suf- 
ficiently primed,  and'  exploded  now,  a  full 
volley. 

"  Don  Lawrence,  there  is  a  Santa  Glaus,  and 
you  know  it !  Last  winter  don't  you  remember 
how  in  the  morning  we  found  his  big  track 
in  the  ashes  on  the  hearth  ?  It  -was  a  awful 
track  —  " 

"  A  awful ! "  interrupted  Don,  laughing. 

"  Yes,  a  awful  track,  bigger  'n  —  bigger  'n  — 
you  could  make  !  " 

"  Well,  master  Mars,  that  truth  don't  prove 
anything,"  said  Don,  with  the  utmost  coolness. 

"Don't  prove  anything?  it  proves  every 
thing !  Santa  Glaus  came  down  the  chimley — 
(Mars  had  never  heard  of  Sairey  Gamp,  but 
he  followed  her  authority  in  the  pronunciation 
of  this  word)  —  and  he  stepped  in  the  ashes, 
and  made  that  track  with  his  foot ;  and  don't 
that  prove  there  is  a  Santa  Glaus  ?  I'd  like  to 


The  Christmas   Stocking.  249 

know,  mister  Don,  who  else  could  come  down 
the  chimley  but  him,  and  how  a  track  could 
be  made  without  a  foot !  " 

"  Oh,  Mars,"  groaned  Don,  " '  chimley  ! '  4  who 
else  it  was  but  him  ' !  Your  grammar  is  as  bad 
as  your  temper  !  " 

Jane,  foreseeing  battle,  stepped  boldly  to  the 
front. 

"  I  guess  if  you'd  read  about  the  tiny  rein- 
deer, as  I  have,  Don,  you  wouldn't  talk  so.  I 
know  there  is  a  Santa  Glaus,  for  he  brought 
Rose!" 

"  There!'*  exclaimed  Mars,  triumphantly. 
"  Jane  knows  it,  and  Trudge  knows  it,  and  1 
know  it ;  and  there  is  a  Santa  Claus ! " 

"  That  footprint,"  pursued  Don,  delighting  to 
tease,  "  was  one  father  made,  just  to  play  a 
trick  on  you  small  fry.  By  the  time  that  you 
get  ready  to  go  to  college,  Mars,  you'll  know 
the  difference  between  a  fable  and  a  fact." 

Aunt  Ann  appeared  in  the  doorway  with 
knitting-work  and  book.  They  all  assailed 
her  at  once  —  "  Is  there  a  Santa  Claus  ?  "  from 
Don ;  and,  "  isn't  there  a  Santa  Claus  ?  "  from 
the  rest. 


250  Heart's  Content. 

Now,  Aunt  Ann's  tireless  fingers  had  been 
for  some  time  at  work  on  various  bright  articles 
—  a  scarlet  scarf  for  Nanny ;  a  warm  hood  of 
the  same  color  for  Trudge  ;  a  blue  one  for  Jane, 
some  gay  mittens  for  Mars,  and  some  wristlets 
for  Don.  These  things  were  to  be  finished  for 
Christmas,  and  were  to  be  a  part  of  Santa 
Glaus  packet.  So  how  was  she  to  answer  these 
untimely  and  imperative  questions  ?  She  evaded 
them  a  little,  that  she  might  gain  time. 

"  Why,"  she  said,  with  a  gesture,  as  if  dis- 
tracted, "  you  all  talk  together !  Sit  down,  if 
you  wish  me  to  answer-  you;  and  be  reason- 
able." 

They  gathered  around  her. 

"Now,"  she  said,  "what  is  it?  One  at  a 
time." 

Don  was  spokesman. 

"  Is  there,  really  and  truly,  any  such  man  as 
Santa  Glaus  ?  " 

"  To  answer  that,  Don,  I  will  suppose  a  case. 
Suppose  a  certain  boy  I  know,  who  is  rather 
inclined  to  scepticism,  were  willing  to  prove 
his  disbelief  by  not  hanging  any  stocking  on 


The  Christmas    Stocking.  251 

Christmas  Eve,  and  by  staying  away  from  the 
Sunday-school  Christmas  Tree." 

"  Oh  dear,"  said  Don,  with  a  shrewd  laugh, 
"  if  you  mean  me,  I  won't  do  anything  of  the 
kind." 

"But,"  she  said,  "you  interrupt  me.  I 
haven't  half  finished.  I  was  going  to  say  if 
such  a  boy  could  be  found,  we  people  who  love 
Santa  Claus  would  be  willing  to  give  his  doubt 
a  reasonable  attention." 

"  He  knows  there's  one  ;  he  knows  there's 
one  ! "  interposed  Mars,  with  glee. 

"If  such  a  boy  can  be  found?  Not  here, 
I  assure  you,"  said  Don,  pointing  to  himself. 
"  No  matter  what  I  believe  or  know.  I  intend 
to  hang  my  stocking,  all  the  same,  and  to  go 
to  the  tree  at  the  church,  besides. 

"  Well,"  said  Aunt  Ann,  "  it  is  too  pleasant 
a  subject  to  quarrel  about.  I  am  sure  when 
the  time  comes,  we  shall  all  enjoy  it." 

Upon  this  they  were  one  and  all  agreed; 
and  in  cosy  conclave  they  fell  to  speculating, 
and  hoping,  and  planning^  seeing  rosy  visions 
of  a  winter's  dawn,  still  many  weeks  distant, 
which  should  be  the  brightest  in  all  the  year. 


2,52  Heart's  Content. 

And  now  we  leave,  in  the  home  firelight  of 
Heart's  Content,  with  the  happy  subject  upon 
their  lips,  They  Who  Lived  There. 


Many  Christmases  have  come  and  gone  since 
then,  and  another  one  approaches. 

Who  knows  but  some  of  those  children  s 
children  may  find  as  their  gift  from  Santa 
Glaus  —  in  whom  their  father  did  not  believe  — 
this  story  ? 


THE  NORTHERN  CROSS.  By  Willis  Boyd  Allen. 
111.  Pine  Cone  Series.  Boston :  D.  Lothrop  Com- 
pany. Price  $1.00.  In  this  breezy  and  thoroughly 
healthy  story  of  a  boy's  life  at  school  the  author 
proves  his  right  to  a  foremost  place  among  the 
writers  of  juvenile  literature  in  this  country. 
The  story  is  local,  ttr-  jcene  being  laid  in  and  about 
the  Boston  Latin  School,  from  which  institution 
the  author  was  a  graduate.  It  is,  in  fact,  largely 
a  record  of  his  own  experiences,  and  some  of  his 
descriptions  of  characters  and  incidents  are  as  ac- 
curate as  photographs.  "We  are  glad  that  he  has 
put  down  that  prince  of  schoolmasters,  Dr.  Francis 
Gardner,  "  in  his  habit  as  he  lived,"  so  that  future 
generations  of  Latin  School  boys  will  know  some- 
thing of  his  personality ;  and  so  with  Mr.  Emer- 
son, whose  reputation  as  aleacher  and  gentleman 
was  equal  to  that  of  Dr.  Gardner  himself.  We 
dare  say  many  of  the  classmates  of  the  author 
wil!  -ecognize  many  of  the  funny  incidents  which 
make  up  a  portion  of  the  narrative,  as  well  as  the 
actors  in  them.  Exhibition  day,  the  prize  drill  on 
the  Common  and  scenes  in  the  schoolroom  are  de- 
scribed with  infinite  relish,  and  there  isn't  a  boy 
anywhere  with  a  bit  of  boy  feeling  about  him  that 
will  not  enjoy  the  book  from  cover  to  cover.  It 
forms  one  of  the  Pine  Cone  series,  and  readers  of 
the  preceding  volumes  will  find  some  old  acquaint- 
ances in  its  pages. 


KELP.  By  Willis  Boyd  Allen.  Pine  Cone  Series. 
Boston  :  D.  Lothrop  Co.  Price  $1.00.  Mr.  Allen 
has  never  written  a  more  delightful  story  than 
this,  the  fourth  volume  in  the  famous  Pine  Cone 
Series.  It  takes  a  jolly  party  of  young  campers 
from  Boston  down  to  the  Isles  of  Shoals  for  a 
fortnight,  and  describes  the  various  ways  in  which 
the  members  enjoy  themselves  during  that  happy 
time.  The  first  day  is  spent  at  the  Appledore 
House.  The  second  sees  the  party  safely  en- 
camped on  Star  Island,  the  girls  in  the  one  soli- 
tary cabin  on  the  island,  which  has  been  especially 
cleared  up  for  them,  and  the  boys  in  their  tent. 
They  are  all  old  friends  of  the  reader,  Tom  and 
Bess  Percival,  Pet  Siblcy,  Bert  and  Susie  Martin 
and  Nan  Burton,  all  of  whom  have  played  parts  in 
the  preceding  volumes  of  the  series.  They  crowd 
Into  these  two  weeks  an  amount  of  enjoyment 
possible  only  to  young  people  of  sound  healtt, 
perfect  freedom  from  care,  and  who  are  in  per- 
fect sympathy  and  harmony  with  one  anothei 
Appledore,  where  the  older  members  of  the  Perci- 
val family  are  staying,  is  only  a  mile  away,  so  that 
If,  is  an  easy  matter  any  day  to  sail  across ;  excur- 
sions are  made  to  outlying  points,  Mingo.  Star 
and  White  Islands;  and  some  of  the  trips  are 
spiced  with  genuine  danger.  They  have  the  op- 
portunity of  witnessing  a  storm  while  in  camp, 
and  of  feeling  it,  too.  No  one  who  has  ever  seen 
a  storm  off  this  group  of  islands  with  its  long 
stretches  of  reefs  and  ledges,  will  be  apt  to  forget 
it.  The  author  must  have  himself  gone  through 
pome  of  the  experiences  he  describes,  to  have 
painted  them  so  accurately  and  vividly.  The  story 
IB  capitally  illustrated. 


TILTING  AT  Wnn>MiLLS  !  A  Story  of  the  Bloa 
Grass  Country.  By  Emma  M.  Connelly.  Boston : 
D.  Lothrop  Company.  12rao,  $1.50. 

NOT  since  the  days  of  il  A  Fool's  Errand  "  has  so 
strong  and  so  characteristic  a  "  border  novel "  been 
brought  to  the  attention  of  the  public  as  is  now 
presented  by  Miss  Connelly  in  this  book  which  she 
BO  aptly  terms  "  Tilting  at  Windmills."  Indeed,  it 
is  questionable  whether  Judge  Tourgee's  famous 
book  touched  so  deftly  and  yet  so  practically  the 
Teal  phases  of  the  reconstruction  period  and  the 
interminable  antagonisms  of  race  and  section. 

The  self-sufficient  Boston  man,  a  capital  fellow 
at  heait,  but  tinged  with  the  traditions  and  envi- 
ronments of  his  Puritan  ancestry  and  condition!, 
coming  into  his  strange  heritage  in  Kentucky  at 
the  close  of  the  civil  war,  seeks  to  change  by  in- 
stant .nanipulation  all  the  equally  strong  and  deep- 
rooted  traditions  and  environments  of  Blue  Grass 
society. 

His  ruthless  conscience  will  allow  of  no  com- 
promise, and  the  people  whom  he  seeks  to  prose- 
lyte alike  misunderstand  his  motives  and  spurn  his 
proffered  assistance. 

Presumed  errors  are  materialized  and  partial 
evils  are  magnified.  Allerton  tilts  at  windmills 
and  with  the  customary  Quixotic  results.  He  is, 
seemingly,  unhorsed  in  every  encounter. 

Miss  Connelly's  work  in  this,  her  first  novel,  will 
make  readers  anxious  to  hear  from  her  again  and 
it  will  certainly  create,  both  in  her  own  and  other 
States,  a  strong  desire  to  see  her  next  forthcoming 
work  announced  by  the  same  publishers  in  one  of 
their  new  series— her  "  Story  of  the  State  of  Ken- 
tucky." 


MONTEAGLE.  By  Tansy.  Boston:  D.  Lothrop 
Company.  Price  75  cents.  Moth  girls  and  boys 
will  find  this  story  <rf  Pansy's  pleasant  and  profit- 
able reading.  Dilly  West  is  a  character  whom  the 
first  will  find  it  an  excellent  tiling  to  intimate,  and 
boys  will  find  in  Hart  Hammond  a  noble,  manly, 
fellow  who  walks  for  a  time  dangerously  near 
temptation,  but  escapes  through  providential  in- 
fluences, not,  the  least  of  which  is  the  steady 
devotion  to  duty  of  the  young  girl,  who  becomes 
an  unconscious  power  of  good. 

A  DOZEN  OF  THEM.  By  Pansy.  Boston :  D. 
Lothrop  Company.  Price  60  cents.  A  Sunday- 
school  story,  written  i7"  Pansy's  best  vein,  and 
having  for  its  hero  a  twelve-year-old  boy  who  has 
been  thrown  upon  the  world  by  the  death  of  his 
parents,  and  who  has  no  one  left  to  look  after 
him  but  a  sister  a  little  older,  whose  time  is  fully 
occupied  in  the  milliner's  shop  where  sht  is  em- 
ployed. Joe,  for  that  is  the  boy's  name,  finds  a 
place  to  work  at  a  farmhouse  where  there  is  a  small 
private  school.  His  sister  makes  him  promise  to 
learn  by  heart  a  verse  of  Scripture  every  month. 
It  is  a  task  at  first,  but  he  is  a  boy  of  his  word, 
and  he  fulfills  his  promise,  with  what  results  the 
reader  of  the  story  will  find  out.  It  is  an  excellent 
book  for  the  Sunday-school. 

AT  HOME  AND  ABKOAD.  Stories  from  The  Pan»y 
Boston:  1).  Lothrop  Company.  Price,  $1.00.  A 
score  of  short  stories  which  originally  appeared 
In  the  delightful  magazine,  The  l-ansy.  have  been 
here  brought  together  in  collected  form  with  the 
Illustrations  which  originally  accompanied  them. 
They  are  from  the  pens  of  various  authors,  and 
tffe  bright,  instructive  and  entertaining. 


A  QUKKU  LITTLE  PKIN-CKSS.  By  Frances  Eaton. 
111.  Boston  :  I").  Lothrop  Co.  Price  SI. 50.  This 
unique  and  altogether  charming  story  will  be  ro:ul 
«uul  re-read  in  thousands  of  homes,  and  -with  in- 
creasing interest  and  delight.  The  princess  is  :i 
little  American  girl  who  has  been  named  Henrietta, 
but  who  has  been  called  by  her  pet  name  from 
babyhood,  and  it  still  clings  to  her  at  the  age  of 
seven.  She  is  sensitive,  truth-loving,  graceful 
and  ingenuous,  a  counterpart  in  character  to  ''lit- 
tle Lord  Fauutleroy,"and,of  course,  is  the  idol  of 
the  household.  Her  mother  is  dead,  and  she  lives 
with  her  grandmother  in  a  large  and  pleasant 
house  with  broad  grounds  where  she  can  play  and 
be  happy  from  morning  until  night.  All  children 
Insensibly  try  to  copyafter  a  character  whom  they 
admire,  and  the  "princess"  Is  so  skilfully  and 
attractively  drawn  that  she  will  be  adored  by  every 
little  reader.  The  influence  of  the  story  will  be 
felt  in  every  home  where  there  are  children,  where 
the  girls  will  try  to  emulate  the  little  heroine,  and 
the  boys  will  make  an  etl'ort  to  be  a,s  manly,  truth- 
ful, and  self-sustaining  as  Dick.  A  very  strongly 
drawn  character  of  the  story  is  Aunt  Minerva, 
whose  crustiness  and  prejudices  arc  destroyed  and 
broken  down  under  the  combined  influence  of  the 
two  children.  There  are  touches  of  pathos  scat- 
tered here  and  there  through  the  book,  but  the 
general  atmosphere  is  clear  and  sunny.  The  story 
Is  beautifluly  illustrated  by  Bridgman,  and  may  be 
•ct  down  as  tSie  juvenile  book  of  the  season. 


THE  ART  OF  LIVING.  From  the  Writings  of 
Samuel  Smihs.  With  Introduction  by  the  ven- 
erable Dr.  leabody  of  Harvard  University,  and 
Biographical  Sketch  by  the  editor,  Carrie  Adelaide 
Cooke.  Bos  oil  :  D.  Lothrop  Company.  Price 
01-00. 

Samuel  Sn  iles  is  the  Benjamin  Franklin  of  Eng- 
land. His  sayings  have  a  similar  terseness,  apt- 
ness and  forc^ ;  they  are  directed  to  practical  ends, 
like  Franklin  s ;  they  have  the  advantage  of  being 
nearer  our  tine  and  therefore  more  directly  related 
to  subjects  ipon  which  practical  wisdom  is  of 
practical  ust 

Success  in  life  is  his  subject  all  through,  The  Art 
of  Living;  a;  d  he  confesses  on  the  very  first  page 
that  "happiness  consists  in  the  enjoyment  of  little 
pleasures  sea  tered  along  the  common  path  of  life, 
which  in  the  eager  search  for  some  great  and  ex- 
citing joy  we  are  apt  to  overlook.  It  finds  delight 
in  the  perf  01  mance  of  common  duties  faithfully 
and  honorably  fulfilled." 

Let  the  reac  er  go  back  to  that  quotation  again  and 
consider  ho\v  contrary  it  is  to  the  spirit  that  under- 
lies the  busim  «ses  that  are  nowadays  tempting  meii 
to  sudden  for  tune,  torturing  with  disappointments 
nearly  all  wh>  >  yield,  and  burdening  the  successful 
beyond  their  endurance,  shortening  lives  and  mak- 
ing them  wea  ry  and  most  of  them  empty. 

Is  it  worth  while  to  join  the  mad  rush  for  the 
lottery ;  or  tx;  take  the  old  road  to  slow  success  ? 

This  book  of  the  chosen  thoughts  of  a  rare  phil- 
osopher leads  to  contentment  as  well  as  wisdom ; 
for,  when  we  choose  the  less  brilliant  course  be- 
cause we  are  $ure  it  is  the  best  one,  we  have  th» 
most  complete  and  lasting  repose  from  anxiety. 


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